


Part of Your Pas de Deux

by Brit Hux-Tico (birchwoods01)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Gags, Gingerflower, Gingerose, Gingerrose - Freeform, Glove Kink, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Mentions of Cancer, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Resolved Sexual Tension, Roux - Freeform, Safewords, Vaginal Fingering, brief mentions of eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 111,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22318021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birchwoods01/pseuds/Brit%20Hux-Tico
Summary: Rose Tico has dreamed of becoming a ballerina in a company for all of her life. After injuring herself at the pinnacle of her dreams, Rose works hard at recovery and applies as a scholarship probationary member of Skywalker & Solo Dance company. She is ecstatic to find she has been accepted, and moves to NYC to throw herself into her dance work. However, a certain Ginger-headed, tyrannical instructor becomes a thorn in her side, and seems to thwart her every move toward becoming a performer on the stage.Only time will tell whether Rose can rise and defeat him, or if he'll manage to destroy her, one bite at a time.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 380
Kudos: 282





	1. Pas

**Author's Note:**

> This story would just NOT leave me alone. It's been buzzing around my head for a long while, and I can't ignore it any longer. 
> 
> I am in grad school, I work full-time, and I have two WIP's now (sigh), so if you're reading this story I beg you to be patient with me! I will continue to update until I finish this (if I don't, I'll DIE!), but updates will be scattered and unpredictable. 
> 
> I think you for reading. If you're a fan of Gingerose, this one's dedicated to you. I'll do my best to make it hot in here! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from [this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/), meaning "step". In the case of this chapter - "first step".

The asphalt simmered in the molten sunlight, streaks of heat waves rising to shimmer in the bright light. Cars whizzed down the road, one after another, driving aggressively, each one in a hurry to get somewhere and not giving two shits about who they harmed on their way to do so. A young woman waited at a crosswalk, air pods in her ears, nodding her head in time with the Fall-Out Boy song playing on her Spotify account. Her long, shiny black hair lay in curled under layers on her shoulders, almond-shaped eyes concealed by round, cat eye sunglasses. She was wearing black tights and daisy dukes, even in the heat, a pale pink tank top and bright sunny yellow hoodie. Over her shoulder was a duffle bag.

The little red crossing person changed to the green crossing person and she stepped her worn converse into the street, crossing quickly to avoid being run over by cars trying to turn right on red. Walking up the corner and around the other side, she turned up a small sidewalk and stepped into a café, pulling her air pods out of her ears and tucking them into their case hanging from her keys. Stuffing the keys into her duffle, she lifted the partition on the front counter and slid into the employees only area, reaching back to pull her hair up into a high ponytail and remove her sunglasses.

“You’re late again, Rose.” Grumbled her manager. His name was Klaud and he was a fucking prick. Both she and her older sister Paige had worked at this café, and Klaud had hit on Paige like they were the last two people on earth. It didn’t matter that her sister was a lesbian. Klaud was too stupid to tell.

Rose laughed softly, dumping her duffle bag under the break room table in a corner concealed from customer’s sight, grabbing her apron off the hook.

“Well, my car’s in the shop and Paige couldn’t give me a ride.”

“Too busy scissoring her girlfriend?”

“You’re just mad she chose a girl over you.” Rose rolled her eyes at him, sliding up beside him at the counter and gazing out into the café. She could almost hear crickets. “Where are all the customers?”

“Pride parade.” Her manager grumbled.

“Ah.” Rose should have known. It was why Paige couldn’t give her a ride. “Well, I guess I didn’t have to come in today, did I?”

“You know as well as I do that as soon as it’s over, we’re going to be swamped. You’re keeping your ass here.”

“Klaud, you do remember I need to leave early though, right?” She gave him a soft look, fluffing her lashes up at him.

“Dammit, no!” Klaud sneered at her, his bald head shining in the light, his rumpled forehead reminding her of foreskin. She and Paige called him Mr. Penis- real original of them but totally satisfying to do. “I’m serious, Rose, I fucking need you here tonight.”

“I told you about this months ago. It’s my interview for that ballet company I’m trying to get into.” Rose interjected furiously. “Call someone in or something, but I’m going. I don’t care if you fire me.”

“Well, that’s great for me. I lose your service either way. If you go and you make it in you’ll quit before the fall term.”

“Yeah, I’ll quit.” Rose mumbled under her breath as Klaud walked away. “Wish I could quit now.”

But she needed the money. Rose Tico was the Vietnamese American daughter of two hard working immigrants, one of two siblings, the youngest, and a complete failure, as quoted by herself. Paige, 23 years old, was off in college living her dream life. They were all residents of inner-city Houston, TX, but Paige lived just south of downtown in a campus apartment with her girlfriend, Jannah. They both attended the university down there. Paige was studying to be a psychologist; Jannah to be a marine biologist. They were both very smart and very busy. The Tico’s were so proud of Paige.

Rose, however, had been graduated from high school for two years now and she’d done nothing with her life but work at this lousy café. Her great love was ballet. Her whole life, she’d eat, breathe, sleep, shit, and fuck ballet. But in her senior year of high school, there had been an accident, and Rose had dislocated her hip and fractured her shin, laying her off dance indefinitely. It had taken her six months recovery time and almost a year of physical therapy to get better and had been agony not to be able to dance while injured. As soon as she was cleared, she began to practice again. Now 21 years old, she’d have to catch up if she wanted to compete with the nation’s best dancers and make a life as a ballerina. Nothing else would do. If Rose couldn’t dance, she didn’t know why she was alive.

Today was her big break. She had sent an audition video to an academy based in New York a few months prior, applying not only for admissions but for their scholarship program. Her parents couldn’t afford to send her to a ballet academy. They ran a dry cleaner and dry cleaning didn’t exactly rake in the dough. She needed to win that scholarship.

The next step in the process was an interview with one of the company’s elite. Rose still wasn’t sure who they were sending, but every time she thought about it, her stomach churned so badly she thought she might throw-up. She hadn’t eaten anything at all that day, she was so nervous, and being at work was making her skin crawl. She only had a few hours until her scheduled interview, and she really wished she could have spent it relaxing in some way.

To take her mind off things, Rose tidied up the counters, organized the tea tins, refilled the espresso machine with fresh beans, brewed a fresh pot of coffee, straightened the cheesecakes in the display fridge. All of this was done within 45 minutes, and she quickly grew bored again.

Leaning with both arms straight out on the counter, she tapped her toes nervously behind her, then began to work through her practice routine. It was hard to flex her feet in her converse so she kept it simple, beginning at 1st position, moving easily into 2nd, 1st again, 3rd, 4th, 5th, tempted to go on point but knowing she would regret it in these shoes. Instead she practiced on her arm movements, trying to elongate them smoothly, gently, picturing herself in her mind as a graceful and elegant flower, bending in the breeze. She was beginning to sway and rotate, unconsciously going up onto her toes anyway, when Klaud walked back into the room and stopped to stare at her.

“Should I dock your pay since you insist on practicing on the clock?” He sneered.

Rose dropped back down to her heels and glared at him. “No. Give me something to do. I already did all the other shit for you.”

“Clean the bathroom.”

Rose rolled her eyes but obeyed, grabbing the bucket of cleaning supplies and stomping off toward the bathroom, hoping it had been a while before anyone had used it.

The hours she was forced to fulfill at work crawled by. Eventually, as the pride parade began to wear down, customers found their way into their café, and Rose became busier. Pretty soon her smart watch buzzed at her wrist, an alarm reminding her that she had her interview with the fancy academy person in exactly one hour. She untied her apron, stomped back to the office, and told Klaud she was leaving. He didn’t disagree, only stated that she needed to be there bright and early the next day.

Rose really wanted to quit.

She grabbed her duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder, slipping into the bathroom to change into the most professionally pretty outfit she had: a simple, black A-line dress. Exiting the café and turning to walk down the street a ways, she pulled out her metro card, waiting at the stop on the corner for the bus to arrive, her stomach churning. She hoped she wouldn’t throw up in front of the interviewer.

When the bus arrived, she hopped on, too nervous to listen to music again. Instead, she watched the city lights pass by as the bus carried her further downtown, the skyline beautiful and quite serene at night. She reached her stop and hopped off the bus, glancing at her watch to find she had half an hour left. And she was meeting the interviewer at…

Rose examined the street she was on, looking for the restaurant name on the signs before her. _Jabba’s Cantina_ lay wedged between two other restaurants, one serving curry, the other pancakes, and Rose examined the place, wondering what sort of food this place served and how someone out of town would know to come here. She’d never heard of it.

Shrugging to herself, Rose walked up to the building and pulled open the door, sliding inside. Loud music and cigarette smoke assaulted her senses as she entered. She coughed, covering her mouth as she walked through a cloud, making her way to the hostess at the front.

“Good evening. Do you have a reservation?” The hostess inquired politely.

“Er… yeah. I’m meeting someone from the Skywalker & Solo ballet company?” Rose murmured hesitatingly.

“Yes, Mrs. Solo is already waiting for you. Right this way.”

Rose followed the hostess through the rowdy restaurant, past the raucous bar at which sat various types of drunken people, into a quieter back room behind a moldy looking curtain. As she entered the room, her eyes fell on a young woman, who couldn’t be much older than she, seated at the booth in the brightly lit corner. Her light brown hair was just past her chin and softly curled, hazel brown eyes bright as she perused a menu. She was wearing an expensive looking, all-white cocktail dress, and a string of small pearls around her neck, bright red lipstick on her pouting lips. She screamed elegance, and Rose felt another wave of nausea fight her.

“Here you are.” The hostess gestured for Rose to sit, laying the menu down on the table, and turned to leave.

Rose smiled at the woman across the table, who immediately extended a small hand toward her. Rose took it, shaking it nervously.

“Hello, Rose! I’m Rey.” Rey said with a warm smile. Her handshake was firm and insistent, intimidating as much as her appearance.

“Hello, Mrs. Solo. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“No, please. Call me Rey. My full last name is Johnson-Solo, anyway.” Rey waved a hand in the air with a silly laugh. “I don’t like people to know right off the bat that I’m associated so intricately with the company, though I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

Rose tried to follow the conversation but was slightly confused. “I’m sorry… you do work for the Skywalker & Solo ballet company, yes?”

“Oh, I do!” Rey uttered brightly, then raised her left hand up to reveal an enormous glittering rock on her wedding finger. “It’s a little more than that, I am afraid. I’m the prima ballerina at Skywalker & Solo, but I’m also married to the son of the one who founded the company. Nepotism runs deep in our situation, though I guess I shouldn’t have told you that.”

Rose wondered why this woman, with her mildly blabby mouth, was allowed to do recruiting for the company. This was starting to feel sort of like a scam.

“Does Skywalker & Solo always interview their guests at creepy divebars?” Rose murmured softly.

“No.” Rey looked a little affronted but shook her head. “No, I chose the location. Ben told me -ah, he's my husband… he told me this place had the best tacos on the planet. I thought it’d be nice to try them.”

Rose had never heard of _Jabba’s Cantina_ tacos, but she figured everyone had a favorite something. She smiled slightly and told herself it was okay. This woman was a little strange, but she’s the prima ballerina for a major ballet company. Act cool, chillax, think good vibes.

“I think I’m ready to order. Why don’t you look over the menu, Rose, and then we’ll get started.” Rey suggested.

Rose did as she was told, lifting the menu to pretend to look. There was no way she was going to eat anything, but she’d order something for the sake of blending in. She was far too nervous to digest food, let alone something as greasy and spicy as tacos. She swallowed bile in the back of her throat and placed her finger on a spot on the menu.

“Fish tacos.” Rose said out loud before she could stop herself. She absolutely loathed fish. This was going so well.

Rey smiled and waved the waiter down, giving her both of their orders with instructions to put it on the same tab. When the waitress left, Rey leveled her gaze on Rose and placed her elbows on the table, pressing her hands together.

“So, Rose…” Rey began. “Tell me why you feel you’d make a good fit for Skywalker & Solo.”

Rose swallowed and forced a beautiful smile, ready with a prepared answer. “Skywalker & Solo is well-known for their beautiful act-,”

“No.” Rey made a face, shaking her head and pointing at nothing. “Sorry, I asked the question wrong. Try this: if you couldn’t dance, what would you do?”

Rose didn’t even think about the strangeness of the moment but blurted out “Nothing! I couldn’t imagine doing anything but dance.”

“What is dance to you?” Rey countered, laying her hands flat on the table. “And don’t give me some bullshit, rehearsed answer. I want the truth. What happens inside when you dance?”

Rose pondered it for a moment, chewing her bottom lip, afraid of how intense Rey was staring at her across the table. She went for it. “I go somewhere else. I become someone else. I feel … I feel on fire, alive, focused. I feel powerful.”

The corner of Rey’s red lips turned up just slightly at her last answer. “What if it hurts?”

“I’m sorry?”

“If it hurts when you dance, do you give up?”

“No.” Rose felt her heart hammer in her chest. This had been the strangest interview she’d ever been in. “No, you … you know I don’t. I gave you my background in the audition I sent. I was seriously injured and I-,”

“Yes.” Rey interrupted. “I am fascinated by your tenacity. But sometimes those who have been injured are too scared to be powerful dancers again.”

“I am not afraid.” Rose stated with one hundred percent honesty, her tone strong and clear. Rey smiled at her as she continued. “I simply don’t back down, Mrs. So-… er, Rey. I will be a dancer or nothing at all.”

Rey studied her for a very long moment. Rose paled under her scrutiny, but kept eye contact with her the entire time, feeling a dollop of sweat tickle at the base of her spine. After what felt like a whole hour, Rey leaned forward and offered Rose her hand again. She waited to speak until Rose had taken it.

“Welcome to the Skywalker & Solo dance company, Rose.”

Gravity ceased to exist. Rose was floating. Her ears were ringing.

“I’m… I’m in?”

“You’re in!” Rey said with a giggle, her mood rapidly changing from aggressive professionalism to ‘oh isn’t this fun?’.

Rose could barely stand the whiplash of her behavior but didn’t even care as her eyes welled with tears.

“I’m fucking in?” Rose blanched, wondering if Rey was going to dislike her for slipping and using a completely unprofessional term.

“You are fucking IN!” Rey confirmed, slapping the table with her palm. “Congratulations.”

Rose beamed across the table at Rey, wiping tears from her eyes, shuffling in the pocket of her dress for her phone. “Do you mind if I call my parents?”

“Not at all.” Rey gestured away from the table.

Rose stumbled out of the booth and went a few steps away, dialing the number for her mother with trembling fingers. It rang three times and she picked up.

“Ma! I got in. I got in!!” Rose nearly screamed into the phone, her breath full of laughter. A screaming woman could be heard through the phone on the other side, and in the background a man was chanting her name. Rose laughed and laughed in joy, content to listen to her mother pump her up with words of praise about how she was going to do so well, she was going to succeed, she was going to become a famous dancer someday. Rose’s eyes filled with tears as she listened, the fact that she had to move to New York hitting her hard. She’d have to say goodbye to her parents, to Paige. That part definitely wouldn’t be easy.

“Ma, I gotta go. The recruiter is still here. We’re having dinner.” Rose made a kissing sound into the phone, wishing her mother a good night, and then hung up, walking back to the table in a daze.

“They sounded proud of you.” Rey said warmly.

Rose blushed. Her parents were so loud on the phone. “They are.”

They broke off momentarily as the waitress brought them their plates, laying them down before them, asking if they needed anything else, then walked away.

“So, the company will pay for you to move. We have apartments for our dancers. You’ll have a roommate which we’ll match you to. Every dancer is required to meet with a doctor once a month where you’ll weigh in and make sure you’re healthy. We expect strict weight limits for our dancers, but we battle anorexia, too, so you’ll have to obey your doctor and eat how they say.”

Rose took in everything she was saying with rapt attention, watching as Rey picked at her tacos, licking her fingers and talking in between small bites.

“We provide practice clothing, it’s a uniform, and three pairs of point shoes a year. Anything else you want for your particular style or need you’ll have to buy for yourself. Practice is Monday to Friday from seven am to six pm, one hour break for lunch. The month leading up to a major show we have practices on Saturdays, too. On practice days, there is a curfew at the dorm building. If you’re not in by ten pm, there will be serious consequences. The weekends you can stay out as late as you want.”

Rose wished she had a pen and paper and could be writing all of this down, but she doubted she could get it all anyway, as Rey was speaking so fast.

“Any questions for me?” Rey asked through a mouthful of taco.

“Um…” Rose wasn’t prepared to be asked about questions, but wracked her brain for something to ask. “How many are in the company?”

Rey chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged. “Hard to say the exact number. We have around fifty dancers and an extensive staff. Staff include my mother-in-law, the owner, her husband, who… well, I’m not entirely sure what he does. Then we have a choreographer, a costume designer, the doctors we bring in, a musical professional, and a head instructor. Some of the more senior dancers have positions of rank, as well, and help with instructing and training.”

“As the prima ballerina, what do you do?” Rose questioned curiously.

“Good question!” Rey was holding her taco an inch from her mouth. “I dance lead in most performances and I also help instruct from time to time. But my husband does more instructing than I. He has more patience.” She smiled sheepishly.

“Your husband works at the company too?”

“Yeah, it’s how we met. We’ve danced lead together for two years.”

Rose thought that was pretty adorable, but she didn’t say so.

“Are you not going to eat your tacos?” Rey gestured to her plate.

“Erm… I’m not really hungry.”

Rey gave her a serious look, raising a brow. “I wasn’t joking about the anorexia thing. Leia’s got a passion for keeping her dancer’s healthy. Gain an ounce of weight and she’ll whip you into shape, but refuse to eat and she’ll fire you faster than you can take a bite.”

Rose breathed in through her nose, wilting at the pungent smell of fish. This was for her dreams, she had to eat this fish taco to be a ballerina, she could do it.

Trying not to breathe through her nose again, Rose lifted the taco to her mouth and took a tentative bite, praying and hoping she didn’t spew it back out all over Rey. It didn’t taste horrible, but it was fishy, and her taste buds turned sour. She forced herself to chew, grimacing at Rey, and swallowed quickly.

“Good attitude. I’m glad I picked you.” Rey smiled at her, wolfing down the rest of her taco.

Rose felt her face warm as she glowed with contentment. Finally, everything in her life was going right. She could quit that stupid café job. She could spend the rest of the summer hanging out with Paige and Jannah, going to the mall, maybe even go to the beach.

“Thank you, for picking me.” Rose smiled happily.

“No problem. I think you’re going to be a great asset for the company.”

After dinner ended, Rose managing to eat one whole taco, Rey paid the bill and informed her that she’d receive her flight information via email in the next month or so and warned her to be on the lookout. Then she’d left after giving Rose a brief hug, waving as she darted out of the restaurant and into the night. Rose wandered dreamily to the bus stop, climbing on board and staring at the back of the seat in front of her with a glazed smile on her face the whole ride home.

Making her way up to her parent’s tiny house from the street corner, she pulled out her key from her bag and let herself inside, jumping at the sound of cheap party favor toys and popped confetti.

“Surprise!!!” Her sister Paige screamed in her face, pouncing on her to squish her to death with a hug. “Bitch, I’m so proud of you! Damn, my sister’s moving to NYC!”

Jannah laughed from somewhere behind Paige, stepping forward to give Rose a grin and a thumb’s up. “We’re really proud of you, Rose! Great job.”

“Thank you!” Rose whined, her lower lip trembling with emotion. “Dammit, I’m getting all worked up again.”

“You deserve it.” Paige pulled her into the living room where her parents were waiting. Rose hugged the both of them, kissing their cheeks and dissolving into tears as they held her. They’d been there for her through everything. It was going to be so hard to leave them behind.

“My little ballerina.” Her father whispered over her shoulder as he held her close. Rose squeezed her parents one more time before pulling away.

Her parents made their way to bed then, explaining that they’d only remained awake to wish her congratulations, but they were old and sleep was calling. She watched as they made their way down the hall, then turned to her sister and her girlfriend.

“Wanna go to Violet Velvet with us?” Paige gestured toward the front door. “We would already be there, but mom called me and I wanted to be here when you got home to congratulate you.”

Violet Velvet was a gay bar downtown. Rose normally would love nothing more than to go out and dance with her sisters, but it was pride month, the night after the parade, and she knew it would be packed. She wasn’t sure she wanted such a large crowd around her at the moment.

“No, I think… I think I wanna be an old lady and go to bed.” Rose smiled softly. “But thank you for thinking of me. I have a month or so before I leave, so we can go another time.”

“Okay.” Paige pulled Rose into another hug and kissed her temple. “So proud of you, girlie. You’re gonna knock ‘em all dead.”

Rose watched Jannah and Paige pull from the driveway from the front door, a contentment easing within her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. She’d been jealous of Paige: on her way with her education, having fallen in love, she had tons of friends, everything in Paige’s life seemed perfect. Rose had worried that she’d never have her own chance. But now it was here, and she felt nothing but love and adoration for her sister.

Rose went to bed, unable to sleep with giddy apprehension for the future. One month was far too long a wait for her life to begin.

ꕥ

Rose rubbed her eyes sleepily as she waited in the queue to exit the plane, her pink backpack swung over her front side to prevent bumping rudely into other passengers. The flight hadn’t been very long but Rose had fallen asleep, woken only upon descent as the plane jostled slightly in the wind, her ears popping. Finally released from the plane, she made her way down the long hallway and into the terminal, following the signs that read exit from the gates into the public terminal. She wheeled her carry-on suitcase behind her up to the baggage claim and waited for her larger one, heaving it off the track with some difficulty, it was enormous, and wheeled her way toward the exit.

A young black man was waiting for her with a sign in his hand, her name in aggressively large all caps on the front of it. She slowed as she saw him, taking in his strong jaw, his plush lips, his thin but powerful frame, and she knew immediately by the way he carried himself that he was a dancer from the company. It thrilled her that she was going to meet a fellow student so soon, and she hurried toward him.

“Hi!” Rose grinned, trying to balance her baggage handles in her left hand, extending her right toward him. “Hi, I’m Rose!”

“Rose!” The young man exclaimed, holding out his arms in a ‘what’s up’ motion and raking his eyes up and down her form, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. “It’s a pleasure, Rose. My name is Finn. Welcome to NYC.”

She blushed a little under his examination, knowing he wasn’t sizing her up romantically. He was sizing her up as a dancer. She hoped he saw what he wanted to see. Body style was unfortunately one of the most important factors in ballet. It ruined a lot of people’s dreams.

“I’m so excited to be here. I can’t believe it’s really happening.” Rose hiccupped softly, then laughed and tilted her head to the side. “Sorry… I’m really nervous.”

“It’s okay. I remember my first day. Can I take one of those for you?” Finn gestured to her luggage. Rose smiled and offered him his choice of handles. He took the larger, heavier one, and Rose noted it was quite a gentlemanly thing to do.

“We’ve got a car waiting for us out front. Let’s go!”

She followed him out the massive glass doors and into the warm evening, taking in the shiny black car he led her to. Rose didn’t know cars very well, but she knew this one was expensive by the detailing and the leather seats within. Finn helped her toss her luggage into the trunk, then opened the right passenger door for her, allowing her to scramble inside. He crossed behind the rear of the car and sat next to her in the backseat. As soon as he’d shut the door, the driver took off.

“You’re from Texas, eh?” Finn said by way of amiable conversation. “Ever ridden a horse?”

Rose snorted. “No. I live in a massive city, just like you. I ride buses, bikes, and cars.”

“Disappointing.” Finn joked, his lips pulling into a beautiful smile.

“What’s the plan? Am I going to meet the academy staff?” Rose was eager to begin.

“Well,” Finn began, giving her a strange smile. “Everyone’s at a party right now. I don’t mean it to be rude, but I got the short straw in picking you up.” He chuckled.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry! If you want to drop me off at the dorm and go to the party, I understand. I really-,”

“It’s okay, Rose.” Finn gestured toward her with a flat palm. “I’ll help you get your stuff sorted at the dorm then you should join me. It’s a good opportunity to meet everyone.”

Rose still felt bad but nodded, unsure about attending. She wasn’t the best at social functions. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Ben Solo’s birthday. His wife threw him this enormous shindig. It’s ridiculous, really, but there will be booze and dancing, and it’s Friday night so we don’t have practice for two more days!” Finn lay his head against the seat back with a sigh, seemingly thankful for the break.

“Oh.” Rose glanced down at her plane attire: a pair of tatty ripped jeans and a baggy striped t-shirt hanging off one shoulder, a black tank top beneath, and her ratty converse shoes. “I’m not really dressed for a party.”

“It’s casual.” Finn smiled. “But you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Well,” Rose really thought she ought to. “I’ll get to meet everyone, right?”

“Yep.”

“Then I guess I’ll go.”


	2. Finger Turns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I am Armitage Hux.” He uttered curtly, offering her his hand. “You may call me Mr. Hux or sir.”_
> 
> _“Rose Tico.” Rose murmured and took his gloved hand, surprised that the leather felt warm and soft to her touch._
> 
> _“Pleasure.” Hux stated primly, pulling his hand from hers but not so polite at removing his body from her personal space. “I am your instructor now. I expect full obedience in everything I ask. Is that understood?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Brit here! They meet in this chapter so get ready for the excitement!!! I came up with this idea when I was thinking of tyrannical speech-giving Hux in TFA (and while I do not condone what he's doing, bossy Hux is hella hot to me). I wanted to write a story where Hux could be bossy as shit, where he and Rose were forced into intimate spaces and situations together. 
> 
> Thus - ballet instructor Hux was born! 
> 
> The story just kind of grew from there, and I'm totally obsessed. I won't be happy until I've finished it all. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting!
> 
> Also, I made the moodboard below because I was bored and I can't get enough of Gingerose. Enjoy.
> 
> Chapter title "Finger Turns" is a move in ballet where the girl is being turned by her partner, their only touch by the hands or fingertips.

Rose stood at the doorway of a top floor apartment, shoulder to shoulder with Finn. A few small gnats and moths fluttered around the light on the ceiling, and they could each hear the tell-tale sounds of a party coming from behind the door. As Finn pushed the doorbell, he turned to Rose with a big grin.

“Stick with me. I’ll introduce you to everyone.” He said helpfully.

Rose was more thankful than she’d ever been. She’d thought she’d be meeting everyone at practice on Monday, not at a birthday party for someone she didn’t know. She was worrying there would be a bad reaction to her showing up uninvited. “Thanks, Finn.”

“No problem.” He murmured as the door swung open. There stood Rey, wearing a skin tight bright red tube-top and very short denim shorts. Her face brightened as she saw Finn, but her whole expression glowed exuberantly as she spotted the girl bobbing nervously about his shoulder.

“Rose! Shut UP, you brought her!” Rey slugged Finn in the shoulder playfully, then the world was whirling for Rose as Rey grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her into the house.

Rose’s face burned as she stepped into the foyer. She noted then that Rey’s feet were bare, her toes painted the same bright red as her top, and Finn was beginning to kick off his shoes. A whole line of them were up against the wall. Rose, reading the cues, immediately kicked hers off, flexing her toes nervously in her bright pink socks covered in puffins.

“Cute socks.” Rey commented with a smile.

“Oh, thanks.” Rose mumbled.

“I brought this.” Finn remarked, handing Rey a bottle of wine. She took it and leaned up to kiss him on his cheek.

“Thanks, Finn.” She turned to Rose, then, her expression bright. “Wanna come on back and meet everyone, then?”

Rose stared at Rey, eyes wide, wondering where Rey’s accent had come from. Has she just missed it the first time she met her at the interview? Was she so nervous she completely wiped that out of her memory?

“Sure.” She nodded nervously.

Rose followed Rey and Finn down a long hallway which ended in a massive, open room. It was both kitchen, living room, and dining room, and the ceiling was quite tall, with windows going up to the top making up the entire back wall. Outside, the view was phenomenal: the New York City skyline could be seen not far away. A balcony waited just outside, with various plants and flowers scattered around in various locations, and a string of white lights hung from two poles on either side. At least fifty people were milling about inside as soft jazz music played in the background, some lounging on the red leather sofa, others standing next to a bizarre modern statue. Everyone had a drink in their hand. It was just so classy, and Rose immediately felt out of place.

“You live here?” She breathed, her throat dry.

“Oh, yeah!” Rey grinned, shrugging as she led Rose and Finn into the open end of the kitchen, dodging past some guests. “Han and Leia own the building. We live here rent free, can you believe it?”

“Fuck.” Rose breathed. “What is your life?”

Finn laughed and dove into a cupboard, retrieving two wineglasses. He was obviously over enough to know where things were, and comfortable enough to make himself at home.

“Wine, Rose?” He asked her. She nodded, turning to gaze out at the party. There were so many people. She wondered how many of them were the company and how many of them were just friends of the Solo family.

“I told you. Why can you never listen? Those buttons are so last year, I can’t even believe you want them on your dress.” A high-pitched voice was squealing nearby, thick with a bizarre accent Rose couldn’t particularly place.

Rose glanced at the owner of said voice as he stepped into the kitchen. She was sure he was only four feet tall, if that, and surprised that his face was kind of mole-like. He was bald beneath his pageboy cap, but dressed in a very old-fashioned tweed suit, his beady brown eyes glancing around for something.

“Babu. Give Zorii a break.” Rey laughed, drawing some sort of pastry from the oven that smelled divine.

Finn handed Rose a glass of prosecco and stood directly behind her left shoulder, leaning down to whisper to her as Babu and Rey fell into an argument. “That’s Babu Frik. He’s the costume designer for the company.”

“Oh? Where’s he from?”

“No one knows.” Finn joked. He leaned an arm over her shoulder and around her face then, his chest brushing her back, as he directed her line of sight with a point. Rose’s cheeks pinked a little, but she followed his direction. “That’s Zorii. She’s one of the dancers, as well as Phasma, Amilyn, and Kaydel. Kaydel’s new, too, she came yesterday. Then we have Leia Organa-Solo, the owner, I’ll introduce you later, and Han Solo sitting with her. I don’t know where Ben is, hm. Then Poe Dameron, also a dancer and a bit of a nut, in a good way. Dopheld Mitaka; everyone just calls him Mitaka. He dances. Chewie, prop designer, and I think that’s all you need to know, really…” Finn lowered his hand then, smiling down at her as Rose lifted her face to look at him questioningly.

“You got that?” He took a sip of his wine, taking a step back from her, finally. Rose was trembling a little.

_Is this flirting? Is he flirting with me? Why did he get so close?_ Rose was thinking helplessly, some of her wires crossed in her brain. She didn’t have a lot of experience in the romance department, and therefore was a little clueless.

“Yeah, got it.” She replied, taking a very long sip from her wine.

“Oh, I forgot.” Finn frowned, leaning a hip against the island in the center of the kitchen. “Watch out for Hux. He’s a bit of a dick.”

“Hux?” Rose wondered out loud. “Who’s that?”

“The main instructor. You can’t avoid him. He’ll be involved with almost all of your classes. But if you can… try not to be alone with him.” Finn said cryptically, giving her a caring smile.

“Is he here tonight?” Rose glanced around the room at some of the strangers, wondering which one was Hux and why Finn hadn’t pointed him out.

“I dunno. But if you see bright ginger hair, run the other way.” Finn laughed, turning as Babu approached them, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. “Babu, my man! Meet Rose. She’s the new dancer.”

Babu examined Rose with his beady eyes, but his mouth was pulled into an incredibly wide grin. “Rooooooose,” He held her name out, saying like he was on a roller coaster. “What a fitting name for such a beautiful ballerina! And you’re short, like me. We’ll have to stick together.”

“Oh.” Rose knew he hadn’t meant it to be insulting, but she was self-conscious about her height. Not many ballerinas were of her stature. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Finn, tell Miss Rey that she needs to understand my genius. I must have-,”

But what Babu Frik insisted on having from Rey Rose never discovered, as Rey screamed just then, very loudly, over the din of the party that Ben was coming home.

There was a scrabble as people dove to hide behind things, someone flicked the lights off, and Rose stood blinking in the dark, wondering what to do. She felt a strong arm wrap around her waist and she was pulled down to the floor, tucked up against Finn’s side. She could feel his breath against her ear as he laughed softly.

“This is supposed to be a surprise, Rose. You gotta hide.” He whispered.

Rose didn’t respond but froze, afraid to move and burning to feel Finn’s hands on her. She knew it was highly likely he’d be touching her almost as intimately in the next few days, if they had any chance to dance together, but that was different. She felt confident he was most certainly flirting with her.

The room fell silent and a key turning in the door could be heard. Then clacking steps of expensive shoes on tile as Ben came down the hall. Then a light flicked on.

“SURPRISE!” Rey screamed, followed by a chorus from everyone else, and Ben staggered as Rey leapt on him, throwing her limbs around him. He stumbled but caught her, laughing as she peppered his face with kisses. “Happy birthday!”

“Damn, I feel special.” Ben mumbled against Rey’s mouth, giving her a halfway decent kiss before lowering her to the ground, glancing around at everyone else in the room with a big grin. “Thanks, guys. Thanks for this.”

Rose pulled away from Finn and tugged on her shirt, feeling her cheeks with her palms, dismayed to find they were quite hot. She told herself it was the wine and shook her hand to deny the glass as Finn tried to hand it back to her.

“I… I’m gonna go outside to get some air. It’s been a while since I drank.” Rose mumbled gently.

“Oh, no. Are you okay?” Finn looked genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Rose stated cheerfully. “It’s just hot in here. I’ll be back.”

With that she made her way around the room toward the balcony beyond the windows. No one stopped her because no one else knew her yet, but she did get some funny looks of curiosity. She fiddled with the latch on the balcony door, unsure if it was locked or unlocked, but managed to get it open, sliding the door along the railing and slipping out into the now cool evening, feeling a blissful chill overcome her hot face.

Sliding the door back into place, she turned and walked toward the railing, throwing her arms over it and leaning down, gazing out at the beautiful skyline, comparing it in her mind’s eye to the one at home, in Texas. Her thoughts scattered, torn between overwhelming nerves at too much social exposure on the first day, the craziness of Finn’s strange body language, the underlying threat of homesickness that hadn’t even had time to strike. She felt her phone in her pocket at her hip and thought of calling Paige, just to hear her voice, to ground herself to something comforting on this earth.

A sharp swishing sound behind her startled Rose out of her thoughts. She turned sharply and spotted a human form lounging in the shadows under the fire escape, a pair of pale green eyes and a spark of ginger hair lit up by the flame of a single match as the individual burned at the end of a cigarette.

Ginger hair. Hux.

‘ _Try not to be alone with him’_ Finn had said. Rose wasn’t the kind of person to have pre-conceived notions of others, but that flash of ginger and Finn’s warning caused her gut to clench with fear. She stared at him, watching him shake out the match, noting that his hands were encased in black leather gloves, only a glimpse of pale skin showing at his wrists. He wore a shiny black leather jacket over a pale white t-shirt, the jacket reflecting the strings of white lights above them.

“You’re the new dancer.” Hux stated, a note of curiosity in his voice. Rose noticed his accent immediately, the warm and melodic sound of his voice washing over her. Her thoughts were drawn to the joke about Americans and British accents, and she thought she finally understood the allure.

She wasn’t sure she could speak, so she merely nodded. He smirked and puffed on his cigarette, leaning his head back to blow the smoke upward, his pale neck elongating in shadow.

“Hmm.” Hux made a dismissive sound in his voice, then a gloved hand appeared from the shadows as he shook it toward her. “Turn. Let me see you.”

“Excuse me?” Rose uttered coolly, thinking that perhaps she should heed Finn’s warning and flee inside. She wasn’t sure she could move.

“Your body.” He growled, then the shadows moved as he leaned forward, his face coming into the light. “I want to see what I’m working with.”

Rose clenched her teeth and her fists. What he was asking wasn’t necessarily unreasonable, as the size and shape of a dancer was almost as important as skill. It was the way he was asking that bothered her, and she started to wonder if Finn had been right to warn her. She did as she was told, however, turning slowly in place for him.

“Too short.” He muttered, drawing on his cigarette again, not bothering to hide his cruel tone. “Legs and arms are nice… you’ll need to lose around… fifteen pounds?”

“You haven’t even asked my name.” Rose snipped at him, surprised at her own bravery. “Couldn’t your judgment have waited until we’d been introduced, at least? Who the fuck are you, even?”

She knew who he was, Finn had told her, but she wanted to remind him that strangers should have manners.

His eyes narrowed on her, his expression cold, his angular jaw clenched tightly. When he rose to his feet and strode forward with purpose, Rose was forced to back away from him as he approached, the balcony railing digging into her back, her neck craning to look up at him, he was so much taller than she.

“I am Armitage Hux.” He uttered curtly, offering her the hand that wasn’t holding his smoldering cigarette. “You may call me Mr. Hux or sir.”

“Rose Tico.” Rose murmured and took his gloved hand, surprised that the leather felt warm and soft to her touch as he gripped her firmly.

“Pleasure.” Hux stated primly, pulling his hand from hers but not so polite at removing his body from her personal space. “I am your instructor now. I expect full obedience in everything I ask. Is that understood?”

Rose swallowed, raising a brow, confused at the current of curiosity that was burning through her. She couldn’t help but wonder how this guy took himself so seriously, trying to decide if this was an act or his true demeanor.

“Well, not everything.” She snorted with a derisive laugh, feeling a sharp current crackle down her spine as he narrowed his eyes at her. “I mean… well…”

Rose trailed off at the look he was giving her, suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. He drew in deeply on his cigarette and let the smoke curl slowly out of one corner of his mouth, glancing down at her puffin socks and dragging his eyes very slowly and shamelessly up her body.

“We’ll see.” He stated flatly, then turned on his booted heel and strode away from her, pausing only to dab his cigarette in the ashtray by the door, disappearing into the party within.

Rose remained still, suddenly aware that her flesh was covered in goosebumps and she was trembling slightly. The image of him was burned on her brain, his high cheekbones on his pale face, soft pink splotches of color there, eyelids a soft, pale lilac over cool, hazel-green eyes, and that shock of bright, ginger hair, combed over so meticulously, trimmed neat. Something about him was incredibly attractive, though Rose was unwilling to admit it to herself. She felt hotter than she had when she’d come outside to escape, her blood boiling, her irritation rising like flood waters within her.

She fished in her pocket and pulled out her phone, unlocking it with her fingerprint before furiously tapping out a text message to her sister.

**Just met the fucking devil. He’s my instructor. Can I come home now?**

Rose was so thankful her sister couldn’t resist replying to texts immediately. Jannah had echoed the same sentiment many a time.

**FUCK! What happened? And no, you can’t go home. Sack up, girl.**

Sinking into a cushy lounge chair with a sigh, Rose typed out the situation to her sister, relieving her frustration, thankful to have such a loving family member she could rely on in times of trouble. As Paige replied in support, telling Rose to just fuck that loser and keep her head down, work hard, Rose felt tears burning behind her eyes.

**I’m serious, tho, P. What if I can’t make it here? I miss you already.**

A gif of a little animated puffin blowing kisses appeared, bringing a smile to Rose’s face.

**You got this. And I promise during winter break I’ll come visit you. Jannah and I both will.**

Rose took a deep breath and sent a text of thanks and love to Paige, pocketing her phone and staring out at the New York City skyline. Paige was right, and Rose worked on telling herself all that she had hoped and dreamed was coming true, no matter that she was homesick and overly stimulated socially and on edge from the crazy dance instructor. Her new life was going to be perfect. She would make it so.

She took a few moments to compose herself, then slid the glass door open and slipped back inside, closing it behind her. Determined to escape from this party and hole herself up in her dorm where she could recharge, Rose scanned the crowd for Finn, hoping to get the address from him so she could walk home. Subconsciously searching for “the devil”, too, she was relieved to find she did not see him anywhere. When she spotted Rey cosied up on the couch with Ben Solo, she made a beeline for the woman.

“Rose!” Rey grinned, holding out her hand for Rose to take, pulling her down onto the sofa beside her. “I was just telling Ben about you. I wondered where you’d got off to.”

“I went out on the balcony for a breath of fresh air.” She said with a timid smile. “I hope it’s okay I was out there.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” An enormously tall woman nearby piped up, turning to give Rose an exaggerated frown. “Hux was out there, too, wasn’t he? Are you okay?”

Rose wasn’t sure whether to answer seriously or laugh. He’d been an asshole, but she didn’t see the need for everyone to exaggerate so about him. It wasn’t like he was actually the Devil himself.

“Er… yeah. I’m good.” Rose replied in a deadpan voice.

“Phasma hates his guts. But I think she secretly wants to fuck him.” Rey murmured, emphasizing the last two words with a sultry stare at Phasma.

“He’s the worst.” Phasma groaned, plopping into the chair across from them, stirring her bright pink drink. “I wouldn’t fuck him if he paid me.”

“Rey, is Rose the new hire you interviewed?” Ben interjected softly, having been watching Rose’s face and noting empathetically her discomfort at the conversation.

“Oh, goodness! Yeah.” Rey seemed ashamed to have forgotten her role as hostess. “Rose, this is Ben, my husband, and this is Phasma.”

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Rose grinned happily, shaking first Ben’s hand, then Phasma’s.

“You had a great interview video. You’ve got a lot of power in your legs. We’re lucky to have you.” Ben stated conversationally, rubbing his hand down Rey’s arm and squeezing her closer into him.

Rose was flattered, doing her best not to think about the fact that Hux had complimented her legs, too. “I will work very hard with you all. I’m so excited to be here.”

Ben nodded, Rey smiled warmly at her, and Phasma chugged her drink.

“I’m sorry, but I’m feeling very tired after the flight. Do you know where Finn went?”

“He and Poe went out somewhere.” Ben stated distractedly, his eyes on Rey’s shoulders, a hand brushing her hair back from her neck.

Rey whacked his hand away, hissing something under her breath to him, then extended her hand to Rose. “Give me your phone. I’ll put the address to the dorms in for you. It’s just a ten-minute walk from here.”

Rose, quite excited to finally have a way to the dorm, anticipating a hot shower and a deep sleep, unlocked her phone and handed it over. Rey tapped away at Rose’s phone for a moment, then handed it back to her with a smile.

“The address is saved, as well as my address to my house. I gave you my number, too, in case you need anything. Don’t ever hesitate to call or come over. We’re like family in this dance company.”

“Thank you.” Rose uttered gratefully, rising quickly to her feet and beginning to back away.

“Wait, the city isn’t really safe at night sometimes. Let Ben walk you home.” Rey offered, pinching Ben’s thigh when he frowned in disappointment. Rose wasn’t dumb, and knew what Ben was looking forward to.

“It’s his birthday, he shouldn’t have to.” Rose laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well,” Rey frowned as Ben wrapped his arms around her waist. “Text me when you get back.”

“I will.”

Rose had never left a party faster. She’d never been like this at home and it was worrying her that she was changing, this behavior kind of out of character of her norm. But she was tired, mentally and physically, and the only people she loved were thousands of miles away, and she just wanted to smell her sheets, cuddle the stuffed puffin Paige had bought her on a school trip to Ireland one year, and fall into the blissful nothingness of sleep.

Slipping her feet into her battered converse, she took the stairwell instead of the elevator, running out some of her irritation as she spun down the ten flights of stairs, feeling a little dizzy when she reached the first floor. She strolled out the front door, phone in her palm, and followed the directions the map guide gave her, turning right onto the large street.

“Tico!” A dark, British accented voice shouted behind her.

She stopped, turning to peek over her shoulder, and Armitage Hux was striding toward her, tucking his own phone into his jacket pocket. Her stomach flipped with nerves and she turned to face him, a bewildered expression on her face.

“Are you going back to the dorms?” He inquired softly, his cheeks still a little pink. She wondered what caused that, because he didn’t seem shy or embarrassed.

“Yeah.” She uttered carefully, eying him with suspicion. Had he been waiting for her? For someone else? Between his behavior upstairs and his behavior now, what everyone said about him, Rose was not ready to trust him.

“Okay.” He uttered softly, then turned and began to walk down the street in the direction she’d been walking. She stared after him, watching him walk a few more steps until he paused and turned to look back at her. “You coming?”

“I don’t need you to… to walk me back.” Rose huffed as she scurried to catch up with him, trying to control her breathing so he would not think her a weakling.

“No, you don’t. But I’ll do it anyway. A girl got attacked on this road not too long ago.”

“Oh.” Rose fell silent then, hoping that wherever that girl was now, she was okay.

They walked on in silence, then. Rose’s phone was in her pocket now, trusting him to lead her in the right direction, paying more attention to the turns they took so she could find her way back without technology in the future.

“I can… come on a little strong.” Hux began after a while, staring straight ahead as they walked. “I like to win. If my dancers are not the best, then I feel I have failed.”

Rose wondered if he was trying to apologize for his odd behavior on the balcony. She listened as she followed him step for step, having to take at least two extra steps for every four of his, his legs being so much longer than hers.

“I will not hold back nor will I be merciful. And I do expect you to do everything that I say in our practices.”

He slowed and came to a stop, resting his shoulder against a marble column attached to a broad stairwell that led to a building that read “Supremacy Dormitory _Skywalker & Solo Dance Company_”.

“I understand, sir.” Rose stated by way of acceptance of his apology, nodding quite seriously. “I will work very hard, I promise.”

Did she imagine it, or did his cheeks redden a little more as she spoke to him? She didn’t have time to examine it further, however, as he nodded his head toward her and gestured for her to go up the steps. She did so, stopping with one hand on the door and looking back, seeing him still standing there, watching. She turned quickly away again and slipped inside, closing the door behind her. Peeking out of the window, she saw him turn away after she was safely indoors and stride back the way they had come, gloved hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket.

So maybe he wasn’t the devil after all.

Remembering her promise, Rose pulled her phone out of her pocket and tapped a quick “Made it to the dorms, thx 😊” text to Rey, then pocketed it and punched the code Finn had given her earlier into the door lock in the lobby, slipping inside and taking the stairs up to her room on the second floor.

Her suitcases were piled on her bed, the room sparse and small. It reminded her of Paige’s college dorm. One side of the room was already made up, a soft fuzzy pink blanket on a bed, pictures of ballerinas and actors and actresses pasted to the walls. Rose didn’t have a lot of art to hang up, but she had pictures of puffins and pictures of her family. She set about to unpack the essentials for the evening only: sheets, pajamas, Paige’s plush puffin gift, her pillow, her shower stuff, and her navy blue comforter. She’d unpack the rest the next day.

An hour later, Rose lay in her bed staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, her hair damp and her sheets smelling of home. A few tears dripped down her face onto her pillow as she squeezed her stuffed puffin to death, kissing it gently on the top of the head, telling herself over and over that everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be so much more than okay.


	3. Flic-Flac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose's first day in the ballet company! It goes so well, really, so very well until... well. Y'know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -ENORMOUS EXHALE-
> 
> I think this is the most ambitious thing I have ever written. I have done more research and had more agonizing anxiety over terminology and crap than ever. So I've decided not to care so much about the terms, cause unless you're all experienced ballerinas, you won't really know the terms either. I'm just gonna describe what's in my head, and do my best! 
> 
> But... someone please tell Hux to ease off on our poor baby girl. Really, he's out of control. 
> 
> Also, HUGE thank you to [Leggies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leggies/pseuds/Leggies) here on AO3 for volunteering to help me make the ballet class scenes more smooth and less stoopid! She's experienced with this stuff, and I am indebted to her knowledge. Without her, couldn't have done any of this. 
> 
> Enjoy chapter three! It's a long one. I'm gonna go sleep for a billion years.
> 
> Chapter title note: "Flic-Flac" from [this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/) meaning "a crack of a whip". It's a dance move, but also Hux cracks that whip hella hard, so it's fitting.

The first day of practice, Rose awoke at three in the morning, unable to sleep due to excitement and nerves. She lay in bed for a half hour, tossing and turning, trying to sleep, but the sound of her roommate Kaydel’s light snoring on the other side of the room was like a bug in her ear, and she could not get herself back to dreamland. Instead, Rose had forced herself out of bed and into the bathroom, showering and drying her hair. She pulled it up into a high ponytail, dressing herself in the uniform for the Skywalker & Solo Ballet company: a black leotard with 1 inch sleeves which was mostly backless with a deep oval cut into the back, a sheer black ballet skirt that covered the top two inches of her thigh, white dance leggings, which were a cross between tights and spandex, and a pair of basic ballet slippers. She applied a light amount of makeup, brushed her teeth, and packed her bag in the dark, stowing away her already broken in pair of pointe shoes, two clean hand towels, a bottle of water, lotion, a first aid kit, and a granola bar.

By the time she had finished all her preparatory work, it was only five am, and Rose still had two full hours before practice started. Wishing she could call Paige or her parents and start her day off right, knowing it would be cruel to call them at three am their time, instead she plugged in her air pods and disappeared into a land of music, stepping outside her apartment and locking it behind her, making her way downstairs to the kitchen she’d discovered on Sunday morning. It wasn’t very big, but it supplied food for all the dancers living in the dorms. Finn had showed her Sunday morning what was available, explaining that someone for the company kept it stocked for them. Knowing she had to eat something but feeling like she might toss anything she tried to throw down, Rose stuck with oatmeal, picking the blandest flavor in the cupboard, and popped it into the microwave. She ate in silence, staring robotically at the table in front of her, lamenting the fact that she could not sleep, her eyes burning a little.

She finished her breakfast quickly and disposed of the cardboard cup in the recycling, rinsing her spoon and popping it into the dishwasher, slipped her arms into her sunny yellow hoodie. Shouldering her backpack, Rose left the dormitory building and made her way down to the corner and around, cutting through the small park behind their dorm building, across from which was the dance studio. It glimmered on the horizon in the morning dawn, it’s many windows lit up, looking warm and happy and inviting in it’s modern architecture. Rose felt a surge of glee and pranced forward, breaking into a run toward the building. She wanted to get warmed up before everyone else came.

The studio was set up nicely; nothing was difficult to find. The rooms were numbered, studio 1, 2, 3 and so on, and every floor had a map next to the stairwells and elevators. The front door had a security code as well, the same as her dormitory building, and once she’d punched it in, she headed straight for the room in which she had her first lesson of the day: studio 3 on the second floor.

As Rose entered the room, she checked her smart watch, noting the time as six o’three am. Fifty-seven minutes to go. A flash of movement in the mirror across the large room caused her to look up, and she realized she was not alone in the studio. In the middle of the room were two dancers in uniform, whom Rose realized after a moment were Ben and Rey. Rey was on pointe, her leg curled back behind her in arabesque, and Ben’s massive hands were on her waist, turning her slowly, while Rey leaned her back toward him and bent her arms, fluttering them out like wings.

Rose froze, staring at them, mesmerized, never having seen anything so beautiful in her life. As Ben pressed his lips tight, his cheeks puffing a little with the effort, he hoisted Rey into the air, holding her up on one straining arm, and she posed, her expression an image of pure euphoria, her limbs light and nimble, her movements soft and trusting. Rose did not think she would soon be able to put so much trust in someone to hold her like that, so far off the ground, with one hand.

Ben shoved a little against Rey’s ribs and she came tumbling down in one graceful move, he caught her waist, she landed on a flat foot and immediately sprang into pointe, and they separated, spinning from one another in moves so immaculate and fantastic it reminded Rose of elemental magic in a fantasy show.

“High!” Ben barked at her as he pranced around the room, making his way toward his partner again, and Rose gasped audibly as Rey made a running leap, springing herself into the air with wanton abandon, clutching at Ben’s muscular, outstretched arm as he caught her, swinging her with the momentum of her jump and they spun, in unison, her pointed toe dragging the ground, their faces lost in expressionless beauty, their arms outstretched together in unison.

And just like that it was over. They dropped their arms and Rey fell to her flat feet, turning on him so fast and jabbing him in the shoulder.

“Your arm was too high! You almost choked me!” She snarled at him, stamping her foot on the polished wooden floor and giving him an accusatory glare.

“But I caught you, didn’t I?” Ben grumbled, turning away from her and wiping his sweat-stained hair out of his eyes. “Damn, you love to complain.”

“It looked awkward with your beefy man-arms so high up toward my neck. I know it’s hard, but can’t you-,”

“I – didn’t – let – you – fall.” Ben leaned in toward Rey and enunciated every word with broken anger. “Call it lucky.”

“No,” Rey shook her head, though her lips had softened and were turned into a partial smile. “No, babe, it’s not enough. Let’s go again. Control that arm.”

“You infuriate me.” Ben growled low, tugging her toward him with a hand on her hip, and they kissed, pulling apart seconds later, and Rose blushed head to toe, turning around and beginning to tip-toe back out of the room.

“Rose!”

So now they spotted her.

Rose turned back toward them with a silly grin, shrugging awkwardly and giving them a little wave. “Sorry! I wasn’t trying to spy. I thought I’d get in some warm-ups.”

“Don’t apologize!” Rey was already making her way across the room toward her, her hair done up in three little buns that bounced a little with the severity of her walking. Ben followed her with a mild expression, stretching his exposed arms in his male dancers uniform: a tight black sleeveless leotard and black spandex pants. Rose did not think she had ever seen arms like his before, and wondered if that was why Rey could eat as many tacos as she wanted at dinner. She thought Ben could lift anyone, even an elephant.

“Wanna do some warm-ups together?” Rey smiled warmly as she reached Rose. “You can put your bag on the hooks over there. We all store our things on that wall.”

Rose looked where Rey was pointing and nodded, moving to the location and hanging up her bag, pulling out her water-bottle and setting it on the floor beneath.

“If I’m interrupting, it’s okay. I’ll go somewhere else.”

“No, you have your first lesson in here as part of the main dance corps.” Ben shook his head, his hands resting low on his hips, breathing hard from the exercise he’d just finished. “I’m instructing you this morning. Rey and I were just practicing a bit before class.”

“Let’s run through some warm-ups together!” Rey said happily and dragged Rose by the hand toward the bar at the back of the room.

Rose fell in line on the bar a proper distance away behind Rey, feeling rather giddy and excited and trying to keep herself from jumping with joy. She was so thankful to be here, in this moment, in this company, with people as talented as they, and she was ecstatic that the prima ballerina was willing to help her. Typically, primas were never so nice, as they were always feeling threatened about being thrown off their pedestal. Rose supposed Rey was confident enough she’d stay a while due to her relationship with Ben, but her dance skill was also perfection by definition.

Ben led them through basic stretches, basic positions, offering pointers and tips to both of them on how to hold their legs, mold their stance, point their toes. He focused more on her technique, but Rose didn’t mind, feeling that if there was improvement to be made, she’d rather know about it, and Rey seemed perfectly flawless. Rose did not begrudge his focus on her at all.

Around six forty-five, sleepy dancers started to roll in. They joined Rose and Rey at the bar, stretching out their sore and tired muscles. Finn came in with a handsome, taller man, who Rose vaguely remembered was named Poe, and waved at her from across the room. She smiled and waved back, and Ben told them to take a break before class started, turning from them and walking over to take a large chug from his water.

“You’re doing really well.” Rey smiled as she turned to Rose. “I can’t wait to see what role you’ll get in our next show.”

“Role?” Rose choked a little and laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, I doubt I’ll have a role. I’ll be content to dance in the corps.”

“You don’t strike me as a corps dancer, Rose.” Rey said with a little twinkle in her eye. “But we’ll see.”

Rose nearly melted under the flattery, feeling her ears warm up. She wouldn’t care, however, if she ended up in the corps, the main group of dancers who made up a large number of the performances in any ballet show. Solo dancing could wait a year or two until she’d had more experience.

“Dancers to the bar.” Ben shouted and clapped three times, his booming voice raising over every other sound in the room. Everyone scurried to obey, and the bar filled up with dancers. Ben crossed his arms over his chest and waited until everyone fell silent, then barked out “Rose Tico. Kaydel Connix. Step forward please.”

Rose glanced down the line of dancers at the bar until her eyes met Kaydel’s. The other girl looked frazzled, like she’d slept in too late, and gave her a paranoid glance with wide eyes. Rose stepped out of line, Kaydel after her, and Ben gestured to them.

“The newbies, ladies and gentlemen. Take care of them as if they were already our own.” Ben gestured for them to step back in line and Rose willingly did so, catching Finn’s eye down the line of the bar and giving him a small grin. He smiled back, and she turned to face Rey’s back once more, her hand on the bar.

A metronome clicked on and Ben walked them through the same warm-ups she had done with him not long ago that morning. But Rose didn’t mind, she used the opportunity to focus her mind on the tips Ben had given, to focus her energy on moving her toes the correct way, to plie without looking too squatty, to tuck in her bubble bum, and keep her feet pointed in the right way. Ben went around the room correcting every error he found in a soft and gentle tone, tapping people on the leg or arm when he wanted them to straighten, pulling when he wanted them to turn. His large hand was surprisingly gentle when it came her turn, as he tapped her ankle from behind after she’d lifted her leg, turning it inward for her. She corrected immediately, pleased when he nodded and move on down the line.

They worked at it for two hours, eventually breaking from the bar to make a formation in the center of the room. Ben had them working on flexibility, bending their legs and stretching, forming poses, making their limbs nice and malleable for the more complicated lesson in the second half of the day. Rose threw herself into the work, staying near Rey, who also offered pointers and tips, and Rose delighted in the looseness of her limbs, the stretch and burn of her muscles, the ache in her bones. It felt right. It felt good.

As they were taking a break, Rose chugging half of her water in eager need, a pleasant voice spoke over an intercom system, mentioning her name. Rose paused, listened again, and the voice stated clearly “Miss Tico to exam room A, please.”

“Exam room A?” Rose questioned to Rey, who nodded, wiping a towel over her sweaty face.

“Yeah. You’re up to see the doc!”

“Oh.” Rose had forgotten that part. Her euphoric mood instantly deflated somewhat as she remembered Instructor Hux’s words to her the first night they’d met. _You’ll need to lose around… fifteen pounds?_

Rose snorted and clenched her fists. Like he knew what she needed to lose or not.

“Rey?”

“Yeah?” Rey responded distractedly, rooting around in her bag for something.

“How much should I weigh?” Rose questioned a little self-consciously. “Am I … am I too heavy?”

“Fuck no, did someone say so?” Rey shot up immediately and gave Rose a gratuitous glancing over. “I mean… if you were to partner with one of our guys, maybe a little bit? But only because not all of them are Ben. He’s a tank. He can lift anyone.”

That made sense to Rose. She’d never seen a man as strong as Ben, and if she were to partner with someone who couldn’t handle her weight, it wouldn’t work. But surely that wasn’t why Hux had brought it up. She was a newcomer to this company. Why would he already be sizing her up for paired dancing?

“Did Hux say something?” Rey sighed with exasperation.

Rose’s expression gave her away.

“Ah, Rose. He’s an asshole, seriously. Don’t listen to a thing he says.” Rey shook her head, yanking the something she’d been searching for out of her bag with a cry of joy. It was a granola bar, and Rey ripped it open and began to shred into it, munching greedily. “Don’t be late to the doctor. We have more practice runs and you shouldn’t miss them.”

“Kay!” Rose took one last sip of water, capped her bottle, then shrugged on her yellow hoodie, taking off into the hallway. Sliding up to the elevator map, she examined the floor plans until she found exam room A, taking the stairs up to the third and top floor. She found the medical office area easily enough and was told by a nurse in scrubs to have a seat in the waiting room, the doctor would be there shortly.

Five minutes passed and her name was called within the tiny waiting room. Rose stood and followed the nurse down a very short hallway into a room with a large letter A on the door. Handing Rose a clipboard with medical history surveys and insurance information requests, she told her that Doctor Threepio would be in to see her soon.

Rose tapped the pen against the clipboard, chewing her lip as she read through the medical options. She did have history of heart disease on her dad’s side of the family, but only through her grandfather. Her mother’s mother had a long history of depression, but that could have been easily explained by the Vietnam war and civil crisis. Rose wasn’t sure it was pertinent information to document. She did, however, document her occasional anxiety, and was honest with the depression screening test about how sad she was feeling lately, being homesick.

Just as she finished the paperwork, a soft knock sounded at the door and it swung open. In stepped a tall, ski-pole thin man with skin the color of a burnt orange and a mop of neon blonde hair. Rose concealed the shock on her face, never having seen someone so shocking in appearance, nor so ugly, and she felt guilty for the thought.

“Rose Tico.” The doctor extended a large hand. She took it. They shook. “I am Doctor Threepio.”

He spoke a little bit like a robot, his voice a flat monotone.

“Hi.” She murmured softly, handing him the clipboard as he requested it, folding her arms around her middle and pulling her knees up to her chest, feet resting on the bottom rung of the stool she was sitting on.

“Allow me to tell you a little of the services I offer.” Dr. Threepio began, taking a seat in his swirly computer chair, running his eyes curtly down the top page of her paperwork. “Once a month we complete physicals on the dancers here to make sure everything is in tip top shape. I can prescribe medications for injuries, wrap injuries, treat injuries, provide nutritional guidance, and much more. All of these services are covered in full by the ballet company, provided the services offered are in response to mandates or needs related to your position here.”

“Ah, so if I sprained my knee in practice?”

“You would come to me and have it treated free of charge to you.”

Rose thought that was quite nice. It also could potentially ruin any negative liability on the part of the company, which was a smart move. It seemed sensible, anyway.

“I will be running a standard vitals check today, we’ll need a urine sample, and then we’ll talk medications. Does that sound okay?”

Rose wondered about the medications part. She wasn’t currently on any, and she shrugged, nodding her consent half-heartedly.

“Very good.” Dr. Threepio fell silent as he examined her paperwork much more thoroughly, swiveling to type information from the papers into the computer database on the desk behind him.

“Okay.” He uttered after a long moment, standing and striding toward her, grabbing a stethoscope off a cart and plugging the ends into his ears. “Blood pressure and lungs, first.”

Rose did as he asked as he checked all of her vitals, straightening on her stool and uncrossing her legs at the ankles, breathed in and out when ordered, cringed as he stuffed a viewing tool inside her ears, and dutifully accepted a thermometer under her tongue. When he’d finished with these things, he ordered her up and onto the scale. He worked with the weights, sliding them back and forth to balance them, then made a note on his chart.

Rose stared at the number: 116 lbs. She felt her palms start to sweat and glanced over at the doctor, stepping down off when he ordered her to and shuffling immediately to the stool on the ground. He said nothing but continued to write notes on his chart. Rose tapped her foot impatiently.

“Um…” She cleared her throat and blanched as he looked up at her, afraid to ask. “Do I… do I weigh the right amount?”

Dr. Threepio sighed and sank into his wheelie chair, laying the clipboard on the desk with a clatter. “You are just under 5’2” and most of your weight comes from muscle. The ideal weight for a woman of your height and build is between 99 and 121 pounds, so you’re in the right mark.”

Rose swallowed and glanced down at the ground, not hearing that she was in the clear, but that she was only five pounds away from being too heavy. “But as a ballerina? Is it okay?”

“I don’t answer those questions.” Dr. Threepio stated seriously, giving her a wan smile. It made his face look a little like a wrinkly carrot. “The only time we will have an issue is if you fall below 99. If that happens, you’ll be put on a strict disciplinary contract along with a dietary plan. Our main concern is to avoid anorexia, which has traditionally been an issue amongst ballerinas. If you feel you need to lose weight, that is your prerogative, but you are healthy and perfectly acceptable to dance as you are.”

That was the validation she needed, and Rose clenched her fists in irritation, thinking immediately of smug Mr. Hux and his rude demands. Rey was right, he was just a jerk. A jerk who followed unspoken rules of chivalry and walked young ladies’ home at night.

“Thank you.” Rose beamed at him, smiling with confidence and comfort. Her good mood was beginning to return again.

“Good.” Dr. Threepio smiled as well, then turned back to the computer and tapped a few more things into it. “I see here that you are not on any birth control?”

Rose flushed, feeling it burn all the way down into her toes. She had to talk about this with him? If he was just a doctor for ballet required issues, why did this pertain?

“Uh… no. I stopped taking it last year when… when I-,” She really didn’t want to admit she had given up on ever finding anyone to claim her dusty vagina. Her mother had this irrational fear that taking birth control for too long would reverse your fertility, and her mother desperately wanted grandbabies one day.

“You don’t need to tell me.” Dr. Threepio stated pleasantly but turned his chair back to face her. “Mrs. Organa-Solo asked me to suggest it to all of the dancers. It’s ultimately your choice, but there has been a history of sexual activity amongst those in the company.”

Rose blinked at him; her face still hot. “What?”

“Well,” Dr. Threepio sighed, trying to approach this as clinically as possible. “Human beings have needs, and most dancers don’t get out very often, they’re so busy practicing. And with so many varied specimens available for copulation within the company itself, sometimes it-,”

“Spe-… specimen?!” Rose choked. “I’m not a specimen! I don’t plan on doing any of that!!”

“Well, even so,” Dr. Threepio frowned. “We routinely check for STD’s in your monthly visits as well, just so you know. Mrs. Organa-Solo requires it, seeing as there was an outbreak a few years back amongst many of the dancers.”

Rose’s head was reeling. All those people she’d just met were getting it on like bunnies in springtime? The only one’s who’d been at all obvious about copulation potential were two married people, and that was expected. What was this place?

“I would consider birth control also for the management of menstruation. I cannot name names for legality, but I can tell you there is not a single ballerina in this company who does not use it to manage their cycles, at the very least. It can be quite embarrassing to be caught on stage with… well, you get the picture.” Dr. Threepio blushed a little and cleared his throat, turning back to his computer.

Rose nodded vaguely, still lost in thinking about all these dancers, cooped up together over extreme hours, touching one another in intimate ways, acting out passion in their movements and expressions. Perhaps it wasn’t as far-fetched as she thought.

“Shall I prescribe you any, Miss Tico?”

Twenty minutes later, a very red-faced Rose carried a little white paper sack out of the doctor’s office, filled with her new medication. She hoped that no one would recognize the little sack before she could find her way back to her backpack and stuff it away, mortified and embarrassed and entirely unsure of why she had agreed in the end. It made sense to help regulate her periods, but any of the other stuff… Rose simply did not have time for romance. Not at all. She was seeking a career.

Slipping down the stairs, she was relieved to find the practice room from that morning empty. Everyone’s bags were still hanging on the wall hooks, however, and Rose scurried to hers, unzipping her backpack quickly and stuffing the medicinal bag down as deep as she could into her backpack, zipping it back up quickly. She turned back to the hallway then, brushing some flyaway hairs back from her face and sighing deeply, thankful she had been able to sneak that little bag away before anyone had seen. Checking her watch, she realized it was lunch hour, and so went down to the first floor where the cafeteria was, eager to join all the other dancers.

Lunch was a quinoa salad and avocado toast, with green tea or black coffee on the side. Rose chose the tea, sliding a steaming mug of it onto her tray, and turned to glance out into the room of little round tables, searching for a place to sit. She did not see Rey anywhere, nor did she see Kaydel, and Finn was seated at an already full table. Sighing, feeling a bit like she was back an awkward teenage girl in the middle of high school politics, she made her way to a table in the back of the room, sinking into her chair and staring at her plate. She reached for the tea first, closing her eyes and inhaling the smell of it, blowing gently over the top and making little ripples in the liquid. She tilted it up to her lips and sipped slowly, feeling the heat pool into her belly and warm her entirely from the inside out.

She finished her tea quickly, then moved to her food, watching the time on her watch anxiously, not wanting to be late to her next first lesson. She ate quickly, more in a hurry to get back to practice than to savor her food, and was merely mechanically shoveling it in for the purpose of nutrition. As she was close to finishing, Finn stood up and made his way to her table with his empty tray, seating beside her and watching her chew on a large mouthful of toast with a wry grin.

“So. You settling in?” He asked her softly.

Rose nodded, swallowing with a short laugh. “Sorry. I’m trying to eat fast.”

“I get it.” Finn looked like he thought it was kind of cute. He titled his head, eying her mouth for a moment, and Rose remembered her conversation not even an hour ago with Dr. Threepio. “Hey, listen. If you ever need anything, just tell me, okay? I’ll look out for you.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.” Rose murmured softly, examining his pretty dark eyes and his plush mouth, the warm tone of his skin. He was quite handsome.

“Any time.” Finn murmured with a little grin, his eyes flicking upward to Rose’s, flirtation apparent in them.

Rose blanched, rising to her feet with a nervous laugh, gathering her tray. “I’ll… see you at practice!”

She stood and walked away from him then, taking her tray to the cleansing table, determined not to get involved with anyone. She simply didn’t care about that. She was here to become a better dancer, not to “get it on” with people. Even if they were as cute as Finn.

Once back in the practice room, Rose was pleased with herself to find she was the first back, even being the last to lunch. She refilled her water bottle from the fountain in the hall, then took to the bar to stretch her legs out, having long since lost the limber quality she’d had from this morning’s warm-up and practice sessions. She raised her leg over the bar so that the back of her thigh was resting on the top of the bar, leaning in and stretching out her leg muscles, one leg at a time. As she was pulling her right leg down and picking up her left, pressing in upon it, she felt a breeze of air behind her and turned sharply in time to see a tall, broad-backed figure in black with bright ginger hair walk past her into the corner of the room. She paused mid-stretch, leg poking up from the bar, and stared at him as he busied himself with preparation for his lesson.

Armitage Hux bent over soundboard equipment in the corner, pulling out a cord and plugging it into an electronic metronome he held within his hand. He was dressed in the male dancer’s uniform but with a few additions. Over his arms he wore an enormous black great coat, the collar turned up behind his neck like he fancied himself a modern Dracula, and his hands were still encased in those black leather gloves. Rose found herself staring at them, mesmerized as he turned the metronome over and over in his palms, checking little buttons and knobs, preparing for his class. Her hip joint began to sting with displeasure, and she blinked, pulling out of the stretch, realizing she’d been crushing her leg against the bar in her distraction.

She lowered her leg quickly, a little flustered, then stretched her toes behind her, pointedly doing her best to ignore the ginger in the corner of the room, as he was ignoring her.

Or at least she thought he was, but she was soon proved wrong.

Raising her right foot up behind her, she stretched out into an arabesque, balancing one hand on the bar, closing her eyes to better focus on the feel of the stretch in her limbs. She held the pose for a few seconds, feeling the burn in her muscles, but just as she was about to lower her leg and switch, she felt a soft, warm brush of leather against her ankle.

Rose’s eyes flashed open, seeing the reflection of Hux standing close behind her clear in the mirror. She watched, entranced, as he slowly raised her ankle higher, tugging her back toward him a little, and turned to press his palm against her lower back, urging her hips to tuck forward. His gloved hand closed tighter around her ankle and her face burned, her insides fluttering with sudden delight at the touch of leather on her skin.

“Leg straight; tuck in your ass.” He muttered, then uttered a contented “Good” when she did as he commanded.

He held her leg in place for a few moments and examined her form, Rose rooted in shocked surprise. When he released her, Rose also released a breath she had been holding, and lowered her leg quickly to the floor, staring at him with wide eyes in the mirror.

“I could have used a warning you were gonna correct me.” Rose huffed, turning around to face him, more embarrassed at her reaction to his gloved touch than angry.

He folded his arms behind his back and examined her, his chin raised in disapproval. “I could use a dancer who already knows how to make a perfect arabesque, so I guess we’re both disappointed.”

Rose bristled with irritation, clenching her fists and gesturing to the mirror as if an image of her arabesque form would be there. “I don’t think my arabesque was so bad.”

“It wasn’t perfect.” Hux uttered with calm derision. “And while we’re on the subject, your hairstyle is completely against regulation.”

“What?” Rose pulled the end of her ponytail over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“A dancer must always wear her hair in a bun.” Hux stated loftily, as if he were reciting straight from a textbook. “This frees the dancer’s face from visual limitations as well as removing any hazards of loose hair whipping other dancers in the nearby vicinity.”

“Fine.” Rose raised her hands to her hair and began to loosen the ponytail from its tie.

“Sir.”

“What?” She glanced back up at him as her hair fell around her shoulders, a whiff of her shampoo filling the air between them.

Hux turned his head away, averting his eyes and sneering slightly as if he couldn’t stand the sudden scent, though his cheeks held the slightest tinge of pink.

“Fine, **sir.** ” He emphasized.

“Yes, sir.” Rose ground out through her teeth, turning her back to him and tugging her hair up in angry, jerking movements, forming a messy bun.

“And change into your pointe shoes.” He added as an after-thought, glancing down at her feet, then gave her a commanding look and turned away from her, heading back toward the sound equipment. He missed the face she made at his back as he walked away, which was a good thing, as Hux could not stand insubordination.

Neither could he stand sloppy imperfection, even though he could comprehend the beauty that such could contain. He still remembered her audition tape. It stood out foremost in his mind, and he hungered to see her dance again, intended to force her in the lesson today, if only to satisfy his lust for her wild abandon. He had been the one to demand they hire her. He had been the one to find her tape, to watch it alone in the dark, to feel the raw, burning energy bursting out of her as she spun and twirled and leaped on his computer screen. He’d given it to Rey, who absolutely could not stand to allow talent to go unnoticed, and she’d taken care of it for him. Now that Rose was here, Hux was obsessed with molding her into what she needed to be. Her talent was explosive, yet rough and raw, but with the right guiding hand, she could be phenomenal. He just needed to break her, reform her, and she would become gold.

He felt quite smugly satisfied with his plans as he pretended to be absorbed with the sound equipment, though he watched her through the corner of his eye. She hopped over to her bag and crouched to the floor, removing her slippers to change into her pointe shoes. As other dancers filed into the room from lunch, Hux looked away, breathing in deeply through his nose, surprised to find the memory of her shampoo still in his smell: floral, soft, sweet. It stirred something within him that he quickly suppressed, snapping the metronome on. A steady beat filled the room around them and he took his place at the front of the room, arms behind his back, waiting semi-impatiently for the dancers to take their places on the floor.

Everyone knew Hux was a hard-ass, and Rose could tell. No one lingered by the bags in fun conversation like they had that morning. No one teased or played around by the bar. Everyone that came into the room immediately changed their shoes and went to stand at the bar, facing front like little soldiers. Rose thought it a bit ridiculous, but joined in, finding a spot behind a petite blonde, anxiously watching Hux’s tall frame, wondering what she could expect from this lesson.

As the last dancer entered the room, sprinting across the floor to hurriedly catch up, Hux addressed the lot of them with focused aplomb. 

“Today we work on corps choreography.” Hux all but shouted, his voice strong and firm over the sound of the metronome. “Every dancer is responsible for knowing these moves, regardless of if you are cast in a lead role. Begin with warm-up stretches.”

Rose glanced around at some of the other dancers, noting some of them swearing under their breath and shoulders falling with disappointed hopes.

Could Hux’s training really be that bad?

Around the bar, most dancers raised their arms in unison, beginning their routine stretches and rotating through basic positions. Only Rose and Kaydel were late to the game, and Rose hurriedly scrambled to pick up, feeling his eyes on her. Her face grew hot as she silently wished him a curse, wondering why the hell he was so fixated on her. Didn’t he know she was new? Hadn’t he ever heard of a thing called a learning curve? 

Apparently not, as Hux began to stroll amongst the dancers, down the line of the bar, his eyes on her the entire time. Occasionally he’d pause and murmur something under his breath to a dancer, who would respond by leaping into action at what he commanded, but made his ultimate way toward her. Rose kept her eyes front as he paused near her, trying not to be dissuaded from focus, but she would be lying if she didn’t say he made her nervous. He said nothing, however, but turned onward and continued to make his way down the bar, and Rose sighed audibly, following through with warm-ups. 

They continued for around half an hour, much shorter than that morning, the intent merely to loosen up their limbs after breaking for lunch. Hux had so far said very little to the dancers by way of correction, but Rose noticed that no one had let their guard down. She had a sinking feeling that they were nowhere close to the real Instructor Hux. 

The sound of leather covered hands clapping together rose over the sound of the metronome, and everyone finished their last moves and stilled, as Hux clicked the metronome off and switched to a repetitive piano track. Rose noted that no one talked in between activities like they had with Ben. No one smiled. They all waited obediently on Hux’s every word. She watched as he began to shrug his jacket off, his white shoulders exposing, and he draped it over his arm and rested it gently over a blank spot on the sound table. Rose noted the spattering of freckles on his pale skin, the lean curvature of muscle, nothing compared to Ben, but present and powerful.

She also noted that he hadn’t removed the gloves. 

“First soloists, step forward.” Hux called impatiently for the main leads of the company. They weren’t always assured the lead positions, but as they were the best and had been with the company the longest, they were often used for example. “We will go in groups. I, along with the first soloists, will show you the choreography. We will practice in rounds. You **will** be perfect, or we will remain here all evening.”

The first soloists stepped forward, Rose noting Rey and Ben amongst their ranks, as well as power-house Phasma, tall and well-toned Poe, and the slighter, smaller Mitaka. Hux barked orders to them, issuing posing commands, showing them with his own form which steps and movements he wanted them to follow. Rose lost herself in watching him move, surprised at how he carried himself so differently in dance. When observing them by the sidelines, he held himself in posture so tight and rigid it was like he had a rod up his bum. But in dance, his body was fluid, languid, flexibly strong and sleek. The contrast was hypnotic, and Rose had to remind herself she wasn’t there to merely observe, but to learn. 

The first group went forward and moved across the room in the moves commanded, Hux with them, then he ordered them back to start over again and do it without him. They did as told, restarting from their beginning location and moving across the room in the various postures expected of them, and this time Hux stepped to the side and watched. 

“Next group!” He shouted, and seven more dancers stepped up as the first filed around the room back to the beginning. The next group waited for Hux’s cue then leapt forward. 

Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Hux snapped at one of the dancers in the center. 

“STRAIGHT LEG.” He all but screamed, the poor dancer jumping with a small yelp. “Keep on tempo.”

The group finished the choreographed routine and slid forward, cycling around the room, and those at the bar stepped forward, awaiting their turn. Rose’s stomach was churning with nausea, and somehow she knew, just totally knew that he would say something to her when it was her turn. She would’ve bet a million dollars on it. 

Hux took out two more dancers with his vitriol, telling one she had absolutely no spine whatsoever, and another that he may as well quit and become a stripper. 

Finally all groups had cycled through but for the last one. Rose readied herself to leap away with the final number, feet ready to fly, and Hux’s command for them to dance cut through the air. 

She did her very best, rolling up onto her toes and turning forward, stepping in pointe after each turn, pausing after three and dipping her back leg upward, counting each step, holding each breath, focusing so hard, too hard, on not fucking up the motions, and raised her left leg, arms out, leap, spin, spin, and-

“Tico. TEMPO.” His voice was a death bell tolling over her head. 

Panting softly, Rose winced and bounced out of her dance posture, following the other group of dancers around the room. In this fashion the dancers rotated through many turns. Not once did Hux call for a break. Only when he felt the dancers were forgetting the correct moves did he stop, and then only so he could show them the correct form, or command Rey or Ben to show them for him. 

Each and every time it came to Rose’s turn, Hux had some kind of criticism for her: your feet are turned wrong, straighten your legs, what’s wrong with your arms, stay on beat. At first, it angered Rose the tone he took with her, but as the hours wore on, it merely exhausted her. 

At one point, Hux finally called a water break, giving them two minutes, merely. Rose glanced at her watch, noting it was only four pm. They still had at least two more hours of this. She traipsed over to her bag, grabbing a towel and wiping away her sweat, chugged some water, but before she felt she could even breathe, he had beckoned them out onto the floor again, taking them through more grueling and repetitious patterns of choreography. 

At some point her toes grew numb. Her limbs tingled as if they were filling slowly with sand, and her gestures slowed in exhaustion. When it came her turn again, Hux angrier than ever, she could feel his eyes on her, and when she met his gaze, her stomach flooded with dread. His hazel-green eyes, the way they looked at her, reflecting not anger, not frustration, but pure disappointment. Somehow, that was the worst of all, even though she wanted to say she didn’t give two flying fucks what Instructor Hux thought of her. But that wasn’t actually true. She knew he was pushing her for a reason, even if she didn’t agree with the methods, and being found unable to measure up was beginning to break her spirit.

Her eyes stung with tears as she pulled herself up once more on her toes, holding her arms high, and began to take a step, but the music stopped suddenly. She turned to glance in Hux’s direction, her eyes shining. 

“Everyone step back. Just Tico.” 

The dancers scurried away from her, happy to no longer be the focus of his derision. 

“Tell me what is wrong with your form.” He uttered coolly as he approached, his hands once more clasped behind his back.

Rose just stared at him, feeling rather weak. Finally, she shrugged, the motion sluggish. “I dunno. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Are you a waste of my time, Tico?”

Why did he have to do this here, now? With the whole corps watching? The water level in her eyes raised higher, and she bit her cheek, thinking she’d rather die than cry here before him like this. 

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Your form. It’s nothing like what I saw in your audition. The dancing you are giving me today is worth nothing to me: weak and sloppy.”

One little tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away and glared at him with all of her loathing, feeling it burn all the way down into her aching toes. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” She grit between clenched teeth. “But perhaps it’s just your shitty instruction.”

The dancers behind her actually gasped, like they were cued by a stage director to do so. It was so dramatic, Rose normally would have laughed it away, but Hux had stepped dangerously close to her, his nose level with the top of her head. His voice was dangerously low, the careful purr of an angry dragon directed straight into her ear.

“I will forgive your remarks for now, Tico. But I never take insubordination lightly. Cross me again and I will find some way to punish you.”

Rose felt a shiver skip down her spine, her ear still tickling with his breath, as he pulled away from her. 

“Begin, Tico. Alone.”

Rose wiped the tears away from her eyes and focused all of her glare on a fixed spot in the mirror, drawing her arms up with more energy. It was easier to ignore the pain when she was dancing out of spite, and as the music clicked back on, she pointed her toes, flexing her muscles with fury, and closed her eyes to absorb the music. She spun, kicked her legs, her arms craning behind her, her thoughts and mind blissfully blank as she moved rapidly across the floor on her toes. Again, she turned, barely registering the number of revolutions, lifting her leg, tilting her torso, and her breath came out of her chest in a deep wave of emotion, her heart soaring as her muscles lifted from the realm of agony and into euphoria. It felt like this, every now and then, like she were tip-toeing on clouds, only this was the first time it had registered from a place of rage. 

She fell into the final pose, an addition of her own where she turned on one foot and landed in arabesque, opening her eyes to find she had danced right toward Hux and backed him into the wall. Their eyes met and Rose lowered her arms, noting his blown-back pupils, his raised brows, the curious set of his lips. She knew she had done something right, and fell to flat feet with a smug smile.

“Acceptable,” He stated quietly. 

“Mother-fucker.” Rose seethed under her breath, turning on one foot and marching away from him. She hadn’t been quiet enough that he couldn’t hear her, and she half expected him to stop her, but he did not. When she was once more among the safety in numbers of the corps, she wrapped her arms around her torso, only then discovering that she was trembling. 

“Dismissed for the day.” Hux barked to them all. He strode to the table and sntached up his great coat, flinging it over his shoulder as he made his brisk way toward the door, the first to leave.

Rose wearily trudged over to the bar and collapsed against it, tears filling her eyes. Leaning her forehead on the bar, she peered down at her feet and noted a blotchy red spot of blood at the end of her pointe shoes. It had been a long time since she’d danced so thoroughly, and she knew it had been a mistake not to prepare more. Her feet would take some readjusting.

“You okay?” Rey asked her as she sidled up next to her, her skin gleaming with sweat.

“Uh-…” Rose breathed deeply, then let out a whining laugh as she teetered into Rey, who caught her and helped her right herself. “I don’t think so.”

Rey helped Rose limp over to her bag on the wall. “You’ll be fine. I promise. Take a nice hot bath tonight and soak your feet in ice water. You’ll be ready for another round tomorrow.”

“Another?” Rose glanced at her with fearful eyes. “Are you serious? With Hux?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I’m sorry for how he treated you. But we did try to warn you.”

“Yeah.” Rose laughed mirthlessly, sinking on shaking legs to the floor, pressing her back against the wall and closing her eyes in exhaustion. “Everyone told me he was a dick. Now I know.”


	4. Développé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I want answers.” She stated firmly, her voice echoing slightly in the space between them._
> 
> _“What?” He snapped back._
> 
> _Rose focused on her intentions. “You’ve been such an asshole to me and I want to know why.”_
> 
> _"Have you been drinking?"_
> 
> Rose confronts Mr. Hux about his incorrigible behavior!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this story SO MUCH. I write fanfiction that I wish existed, and I'm just going to keep telling myself that I love this story so much. I love bossy Hux, I love determined Rose, and this whole concept is just SO MUCH FUN. 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am! 
> 
> Chapter title: Développé from [this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/): meaning "to develop" or a "developing movement". It's a motion in a dancer's legs, but for the purposes of this chapter, indicates that something exciting is beginning. 😌

“Jannah’s graduating before me.” Paige whined over the phone, her voice high-pitched and ringing in Rose’s ears.

Rose made a face, rolling her eyes as she plumped some mascara onto her lashes, leaning in close to the mirror and holding her eye as wide open as she could.

“So what? At least you’ll both have massively awesome degrees. And you can be a kept woman supported by her sexy-ass girlfriend with the cool science job.” 

“I don’t want to be a kept woman! Would you want to be a kept woman?”

Rose laughed, moving to the other eye. “I was referring more to a sexual fantasy than actual real-life, Paige.”

“Ewww,” Paige cackled in the phone. “What the fuck? My lil sister has a ‘kept woman’ fantasy?! What the hell even is that?”

Rose flushed and glared at the wall, yelling into the speaker of her phone. “Not the whole… not having a career thing. Just the… ugh! Having someone care for you… take care of you. Isn’t it sweet?”

“No, it’s fucked up.”

“How are you even in love with someone?”

Rose could almost hear Paige roll her eyes.

“Rose, as the only one of us who has held a stable relationship long enough to know anything, I demand you take that back.”

Rose bristled in self-defense, dabbing a bit of lip color onto her mouth and smacking her lips together. “No. That’s not fair. I had Tommy in high school.”

“Tommy was a stupid idiot dick-face. You never got off with him, remember? You came to me crying, thinking that you might be a lesbian cause the sex was so uncomfortable.”

“Okay, I am done with this conversation.” Rose bit through her teeth. “I love you. I have to finish getting ready. Call you tomorrow?”

“No, I’m not done!” Paige called through the phone, her voice resounding off the tile walls of the bathroom. Rose was thankful that Kaydel had already gone out for the day. “You haven’t given me details! Who are you going out with? Where are you going? Is this a date-like thing?”

“It’s not a date.” Rose frowned, rolling her eyes and carrying her phone into the bedroom, flinging open the closet door and staring at her clothing. “We’re going to a movie. Nothing big. And it’s a group of people.”

“Are any of these people single guys?”

Rose hesitated, rooting through her tops and dresses. “Yes.” She mumbled.

“Okay, then!” Paige chirped back cheerfully. “It’s time you get some! Remember what that doctor whatsit said about needs and all.”

“PAIGE!” Rose groaned. “Stop it. I don’t have time for romance. I just want to make some friends cause I miss you and Jannah and mom and dad, okay? Stop teasing me.”

Paige could hear the pout in her sister’s voice and immediately apologized, though she didn’t really sound very sorry.

“Okay. Have fun, chicky. I love you.”

“Love you.” Rose crooned, making a kissy sound. And Paige hung up.

Rose tossed her phone onto her bed, wrapping her arms around her middle and trying her best not to cry. She missed her family so much. Deciding to move all the way across the country was beginning to have a heavy effect on her. It was Saturday. She had spent an entire week with the Skywalker & Solo company. Her head had been filled with so much choreography, her body felt like it had been run over by at least three different vehicles, and her bones cracked like she was an old woman when getting out of bed in the morning.

The physical stuff was nothing compared to the mental, though. Rose thought back to the week’s lessons, and one important factor stood out in her mind. Each and every class with Armitage Hux left her feeling achingly empty, unworthy, unable to measure up. She tried to ignore the feeling. She tried to tell herself not to give in to such negativity. She reminded herself again and again and again that Hux was a jerk, she had witnessed it, and everyone had told her so, but still she could not get it out of her mind the way he looked at her in his lessons. Disappointment being his overall expression, Rose began to doubt her experience and skill as a dancer. She didn’t care if he wanted to be an asshole, she could take that. But what she couldn’t take was thinking that she couldn’t beat him, couldn’t win, couldn’t blow him away and prove him wrong. If she could do that, then she felt that nothing would stand in her way.

She had noticed how he behaved with Rey and Ben. He didn’t like Ben, that was obvious, as he sneered whenever he was near. However, Hux never, ever dared to chastise his form. He never called him an idiot or questioned his dance decisions. And Rey he treated reverently, almost like a queen he was bound to respect. They were never the subject of his vitriol, and Rose knew why. They were just that good at dancing. Hux fixated on her because she was terrible. If she could improve, if she could get better, then he’d leave her alone. If she only knew what it was that he was looking for…

Her phone buzzed on her bed and Rose jumped, torn from her thoughts. She snatched it up and read the text from Finn.

**Downstairs. Let’s go!** **😜**

Rose cursed under her breath and grabbed the first outfit she could find in her closet, a navy blue and maroon striped dress with a white peter-pan collar, pulled on a pair of burgundy tights, and slipped her sore and tired feet into her beat up converse. Checking herself one last time in the mirror, she grabbed her phone and wallet, slipping them into the pockets of her dress, then skipped out the door.

Downstairs, Finn waited on the front steps, looking handsome in a pair of well-cut jeans, brown wingtips, pristine white t-shirt underneath a brown leather bomber jacket. He removed his sunglasses as she came outside, looking her up and down and giving her a wink and a pretty grin.

“Damn, Rose. You’re cute.”

“Stop.” Rose flushed a little, smiling beside herself. “Thanks. You look good, too.”

She accepted his offered hug as she approached, pressed against his chest, her nose brushing his shoulder. He smelled good, too.

“Let’s go.” He took her hand and pulled her behind him down the steps, beginning to lead her down the street toward the local theater. Rose blushed fully, following in his tow, unsure if she should pull her hand out of his or not.

“Uh-… Finn?” She began, wriggling her fingers a little.

“Yeah?”

“Where is everyone else?”

“They’re at the theater, already. It’s not far from here.” He assured her, slowing the pace to walk along beside her.

Rose pulled her hand out of his, raising it to tuck her loose hair behind her ears, clearing her throat softly. “I see.”

“Sorry.” Finn chuckled her motion away, ever so confident. “I guess… I should have asked, huh? But you’re so cute, I just thought…”

“I don’t… really want to get involved in that way.” Rose ventured carefully, glancing up at him and giving him an apologetic frown. “It’s no offense to you. I just… I came here to focus on dance.”

“No, I get it.” Finn laughed it off, shrugging his shoulders. “You’ve only been here a week. Maybe… maybe later.”

She had to admire his tenacity. Rose smiled to herself as they made the quick walk to the theater, thinking to herself that sure, maybe later. A lot later, but maybe.

Ben, Rey, Poe, Phasma, and Mitaka were waiting for them at the theater. Tickets had already been purchased, Rey insisting that Rose didn’t have to pay a single dime, and the small group of them bundled at the concessions stand. Rey bought a large popcorn, a soda, two different candies, and a pickle, growing defensive at Phasma’s judgmental glance, and declared she’d be sharing with Ben. No one else purchased anything, ever aware of their figures. Such was the life of a typical dancer.

The movie they watched was something in the horror genre, filled with lots of gore and action and homicide. Rose, sandwiched between Finn and Rey, had fun, a fan of horror films herself, and rather enjoyed Rey’s snide comments about who the killer was the entire film as she munched on her snacks, while Finn clutched the arm of his seat uncomfortably the whole time, wincing and jumping in all the right places. Rose leaned over a few times to tease him, the smell of his cologne swirling in her head, and thought to herself that maybe, just maybe she didn’t have to be so obsessed only with her career. Having fun was nice, too.

After the show, they exited to Rey and Ben arguing about how realistic the blood had been. Rose had noted they argued a lot, but she had never seen them get very serious with it. Usually it had a light and teasing tone, and she had yet to witness either of them actually very angry with one another. It was cute.

“Wanna grab a bite with us, Rose?” Poe uttered to her, surprising her out of her thoughts. He rarely spoke to her, and she felt flattered that such a star of the company was addressing her.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, nodding eagerly. “Sure! Where are you all going?”

“Thai food.” Poe winked, then took hold of Finn’s hand, yanking the man closer toward him, pulling him out of a conversation he’d been having with Mitaka about how horrifying the film had been.

Rose watched as Poe eyed Finn sulkily, and the pair of them slipped off to the side, Poe leaning up to whisper something into Finn’s ear. Thinking no one watching, his hand slid down his thigh and he pat him once on the bum, causing Finn to jump and flush a little, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed.

Rose averted her gaze immediately, her face red, noting all the interesting movie posters around the room, how quaint and wonderful they all were.

“I’m hungry!!” Rey shouted, yanking on Ben’s hand and waving at them all. “Let’s go, hurry.”

Rose followed the crew, disoriented and quite confused. Finn had most definitely been coming on to her. But Poe was most definitely coming onto him. And Finn had totally been into them both. Doctor Threepio’s words filtered back into her mind, remembering he had implied that everyone was banging everyone, not necessarily in relationships. Rose definitely didn’t want to be a part of that, or even, she thought with imminent horror, get involved with more than one person.

It hadn’t been but a few hours that she’d been entertaining potential romance, so she didn’t feel too bad, but the feeling of being a seventh wheel in the group was beginning to make itself apparent. She’d gone out with these people to repeal the ache for home, the longing for her family, and now she was starting to sink back into a state of melancholy. They already all knew each other so well, and in the buzz of the crowd of them, her presence was a soft afterglow in the background that none of them paid particular attention to. Rose supposed she was easy to overlook, quiet and somewhat shy, but it didn’t help, being added to the week’s heaping feeling of vulnerability and inadequacy.

Dinner was delicious. The conversation was fun, light-hearted. Rose was told many stories, let in on many inside jokes, left out of even more, and near the end of the evening, feeling warm and buzzed from the four glasses of wine she had, they each paid their way and left the restaurant. Ben and Rey departed first, saying their goodbyes on the sidewalk, looping their arms around each other and walking off, Rey’s head on Ben’s shoulder. Phasma and Mitaka waved farewell and departed in different directions, leaving Rose and Poe and Finn.

Rose lingered, wondering if Finn was going to walk her back, almost offering to go on her own, when Poe smiled at her.

“Need us to walk you back, Rose?”

Rose glanced from him to Finn. Finn gave her a hesitating smile.

“Oh, no.” Rose scrambled to deny them, waving her hands, giving them a nervous smile. “No, you two… you go home and enjoy yourselves.”

“You sure?” Finn asked her seriously, but Poe was already leaning into his arm which was wrapped around his shoulders, his eyes heavy with lust, beginning to draw him down the street.

“Yeah, I’m good. I can find my way back.” Rose smiled and waved as they took off.

She most definitely did not want Poe for romantic competition, Rose was sure of that. That man was very sure of himself and looked like he’d mow down the whole world to get what he wanted.

Laughing to herself at the thought, her head warm and fuzzy from the wine, she pulled out her phone and typed in the address to the dormitories, following the directions with her head down, ignoring strangers as they passed in the twilight. The route carried her past the lit-up and modern building of the dance company, and she walked right past it’s front doors, around the corner by the wrought-iron fence, almost making it all the way to the park behind when something in the windows of the building caught her eye.

She turned, pocketing her phone and wrapping her hands around two of the bars of the fence, leaning up on her tiptoes and narrowing her eyes to see better. Someone was in the building on a Saturday night, dancing. It was hard to make out who from her distance, but a bright flash of ginger piqued her curiosity. Before she knew what she was doing, persuaded by liquid courage, her feet were carrying her back to the front of the building, and she found herself standing at the door, hand on the handle.

Emblazoned by drink, Rose set her teeth, heaved the door open and marched inside, punching in the code for the security door past the foyer, and followed the soft sounds of French Impressionist music in the empty building.

He was on the second floor, in studio five, a smaller room with only one wall of mirrors and a long bench against one wall. A grand piano was shoved into a corner, but the music came from a sound system, which Rose took in was connected to a cell phone laying on the floor. Hux stood in the middle of the room, his leg flexed high into the air, poised on the ball of his foot, his lean frame elegantly posed. Rose watched him turn and leap, in awe at the graceful way he held and presented himself, noting the gleam of sweat at his temples that made his ginger hair there just a little darker than the rest. His usually slicked back hair was flopping in his face, soft-looking, and his typically chiseled expression was lost to the beauty of sound and fury, reminding her of some ancient statue of a Grecian god.

She noted for the first time he was not wearing his gloves and found that peculiar. She had seen him with them on so often, she had begun to wonder if he ever took them off. He looked rather strange without them.

As he pirouetted and raised his arms to the ceiling, his torso and back bending backwards in an impressive feat of flexibility, Rose strode confidently into the room, determined. The soft sound of her shoes on the wooden floor startled him out of his focus, which she could tell by the way his form yanked suddenly sideways, the beauty of his dance lost, and he gathered himself immediately up into his ass-rod stiffness, glaring at her with immediate and tense anger.

Rose smiled softly, unsure why his reaction was so amusing, and watched him stomp over to his phone and lift it, pausing the music abruptly.

“What are you doing here, Tico?” he demanded, tossing the phone back to the floor onto his greatcoat. Rose noted the gloves laying beside it on the ground. She felt satisfied, being correct that they’d be near.

“I want answers.” She stated firmly, her voice echoing slightly in the space between them.

“What?” He snapped back, his cheekbones red, running a hand nervously through his sweaty hair. It made the front stick up a little and looked funny.

Rose suppressed an inebriated giggle, focusing on her intentions. “You’ve been such an asshole to me and I want to know why.”

Hux stared at her, his eyes narrowed in flabbergasted outrage and utter confusion. Rose tensed as he stepped toward her, crossing the large room in his soft ballet-slippered feet, stopping a few feet from her. She could see his expression more clearly, up close, and she clenched her teeth and her fists, steeling herself for a fight.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Answer the question.” Rose insisted, pressing her lips together resolutely.

“I am an asshole, as you so eloquently put it, to all of my students.” He defended himself, raising his chin and peering down at her in disdain.

“Not to the first soloists.” Rose barked back. “Well, at least not to Rey or Ben. Is it because they’ve earned your respect?”

Hux had the decency to look relatively surprised at her intuition. “Yes. Exactly.”

“How do I earn it?” She demanded, piercing him with a look of determinate passion.

He looked very surprised then, completely taken-aback, his face a mixture of incredulity and bewilderment, his brows arched high, forming little wrinkles on his forehead. He examined her closely, folding his arms behind his back.

“Come again?”

Rose approached him, closing the distance between them, and glared up into his face, so short next to him, but looking as if she had no clue or at the very least that it didn’t matter, and she could take him down if she wanted to.

“How do I earn your respect?” She grit out between clenched teeth. “I am sick and tired of being berated by you. I don’t learn that way. Can anyone learn that way? I just want to be able to … to do what you ask of me without feeling like I’m utter shit and have no chance and I-,”

“Tico.” He interrupted, snapping at her as his cheeks filled with color. “If you are trying to earn my respect, rambling utter nonsense at me is not a good start.”

Rose pressed her mouth closed, her lips quirking into a tight frown, and she crossed her arms over her chest, her ample bosom lifting a bit with the pressure she placed underneath them.

Hux’s mouth went dry. He averted his gaze, stoutly reminding himself that large breasts on a dancer were impractical so he shouldn’t appreciate them, and that it was hardly a gentlemanly thing to do regardless, and wracked his brain for how to respond to her.

“If you were to earn my respect,” He began, articulating clearly for her example. “You must reach perfection.”

“No one’s perfect.” Rose combatted snidely, shaking her head.

He narrowed his eyes at her, completely disagreeing and suddenly less interested than he had been when she’d first entered this room and accosted him. Her spirit, her fire, her demands, they had enticed him into believing his original plans for her utter, exquisite perfection, may still be possible, as he had given up on her long before during the week. Hux loved experimentation, he loved to challenge himself, and Miss Rose Tico was a challenge, containing all of the potential and none of the precision. He had longed to perfect her, tweak her, bend her into divinity, but ultimately, she had disappointed him.

Now, here she stood, small and defiant and demanding him to respect her.

“Incorrect.” He disagreed. “You, for instance, could be perfect.”

Something in Rose’s eyes shifted, her mouth formed a soft ‘o’, and she leaned back, her turn to be surprised. But the soft and mildly adorable response was instantly replaced with her hard, tough-girl act, and she tapped her foot impatiently.

“How so?”

“Your dance… there is a passionate artistry in your expressions, the movement of your limbs, in the carriage of your torso. Your… build is unusual, but lends itself to the beauty when you move. Though none of this have I seen since you’ve been hired on here at the company.” He shook his head, giving her once again that hated look of disappointment. “You came close the first day, when I pushed you, but since… nothing. You are a basic dancer.”

Rose fumed once more, rising to his accusatory insults, and shook her head, unable to resist throwing a finger up in his face. “I refuse to accept that. If you say that I am capable, then I agree, and I demand that you teach me. Properly!”

Hux blinked and removed himself from the nearness of her pointed finger, finding it rude and tremendously offensive. He sniffed, shaking his head.

“I have tried. You do not accept my criticisms.”

“Bull shit!” Rose all but shouted at him, seething with fury. Why did he have to be so damned incorrigible?

“You are speaking to your instructor.” He uttered darkly, his tone a warning bite. “Please use respectful language.”

Rose didn’t even blink. “You haven’t tried. All you’ve done since I arrived is boss me around and mope when I don’t meet your ridiculously high expectations. Give me a real shot, and actually tell me how to improve. I’m willing, if you’ll agree to actually tell me what I’m doing wrong instead of just griping about me.”

Hux could not find a way to disagree with her, though he wanted to. He admitted that perhaps he had been a little overly touchy when it came to her abilities, but only because he had been angry with himself that he had, presumably, made a poor judgment decision in getting her hired on. But here she stood, fiery and willing, challenging him to challenge her. How could he say no to that? It was altogether too tempting.

“It will mean extra lessons.” He stated coolly.

“I can do that.” Rose bit back.

“You will be exhausted. You will have to work hard.”

“I can handle that.” She insisted.

“Fine.” He nodded curtly. “We begin now.”

He spun on his heel and marched over to the music, clicking the play button on his cell phone screen and bending to reach for his gloves.

Rose sputtered, shaking her head and taking a step back toward the door. “I-… now? I… I’ve had some wine and I’m not dressed and-,”

“You’ve had some wine, yes, but your tights and dress look free enough for some movement. I will not challenge you too far. Kick off your shoes.”

He approached her then, pulling his gloves on, making sure they were nice and tight. He flexed each fist to settle them over his hands, the creaking sound of leather soft but apparent. Rose felt a tingle tip-toe down her spine and end between her legs, her breath catching in confusion at the reaction.

“Wh-… why do you wear those?” She asked distractedly, kicking her shoes off into the corner of the room where they lay in a haphazard pile. She noted Hux stare after them with disapproval in his lips.

“I do not touch people with my bare hands.” He stated flatly, reaching for her. Rose startled slightly as he grabbed her wrists in both of his gloved hands, pulling her toward the center of the room, then released her.

“Flex your toes, like this.” He ordered, showing her the motion he wanted with his own feet.

Rose, flustered beyond all reason and unsure WHY, did as he asked, mirroring him.

“Good.” He murmured, watching her. “I’ve noticed you do not always point your toe entirely when you extend your legs. If you are to achieve perfection-,”

“Point my toe better. I get it.” Rose finished for him, nodding.

Hux nodded his approval and stepped back a bit to watch her better, examining her legs and feet, offering tidbits of help as she moved through the basic ballet positions, making every effort to flex her toes more thoroughly. Something within her was feeling sated and warm, a lacking emptiness she’d been missing having been filled. She supposed it was that, rather than just being an asshole, Hux was actually being helpful, offering her useful tips and criticisms, rather than verbal abuse. He led her through a simple demonstration, not once did Rose look at a clock, so lost in improving her craft, so dependent on his advice and critique, that when he told her to stop (they had moved on to leg lifts) and stated the time, she was pleasantly shocked.

“Eleven? How long have we been at it?”

“Nearly three hours.” Hux uttered distractedly, running a gloved hand through his hair. His eyes looked tired: little pale lilac circles rimmed beneath, and his mouth was set in a grime line.

“Well,” Rose scurried over to her shoes along the wall and slipped her feet into them, feeling content for the first time all week. “At least it’s Saturday. I haven’t violated curfew.”

Hux gave her a strange look, crossing to his phone and cutting the music off, slinging his great coat over his shoulders and sliding his arms within. He did up the buttons, pulled up the collar, then turned toward her.

“I… do not have plans tomorrow.” He began carefully, his tone placid and still. “We can resume your tutorials then instead of having to fulfill the time too late during the week.”

Rose finished tying her shoelaces and stood straight, nodding her head exuberantly. “Okay. What time?”

Hux clenched his jaw slightly and looked at the clock as if thinking. “Noon. Eat lunch, then meet me here in this studio.”

“Okay.”

Her smile was a little hesitant as she tried to reconcile her irritation towards him with the newly found thankfulness that he was actually going to be helpful. Hux noticed, averting his gaze as his cheekbones flushed again, flexing one hand in his glove before tucking it into his pocket.

“Let’s go.”

They walked out together, Rose’s slight inebriation long having warn off. The evening was cool and the air tasted sweet, the street lamps having kicked on. Hux accompanied her all the way around the building until they reached the back end, where the park stretched between the studio and the dorms.

“I’ll wait until you’ve made it inside.” He stated, indicating with a nod that she should cross the park alone.

Rose nodded, striding forward into the darkness. But she paused, ever unable to kick the habit of politeness, and turned to give him a half-smile. “Thank you, Mr. Hux. For agreeing to help me.”

She strode away then, her arms swinging slightly, her hair spilling over one shoulder, and Hux burned as he watched her go, pressing his fists deep into his pockets and clenching at nothing. As he watched her slip into the back door of the dorm and disappear, he thought vaguely to himself of her potential. Rose Tico was going to be so very perfect.


	5. Soubresaut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and Hux begin their tutorials together, and Rose tries out for a role in the new ballet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on a roll and I can't stop. I wasn't intending to update this chapter, but I just love this story so much it kind of... accidentally just happened. It's not my fault! 
> 
> Sorry if my whiplash updating is upsetting anyone! 
> 
> Chapter title: Soubresaut from [this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/) which is a dance move in which the dancer performs a quick jump from two feet and lands on two feet in fifth position. It's a pretty joyous looking move, and this chapter is filled with a lot of happiness, mostly from Rose. 🌹

Rose was able to sleep in until ten on Sunday morning, blissfully thankful for it. Oddly enough, it had been the first night she had slept entirely through the evening, not waking a single moment, not even to run to the toilet. When her alarm went off, set purely for backup as she generally wouldn’t sleep past seven am naturally, she slapped it off and yawned sleepily, staring up at the ceiling. Glancing over at Kaydel’s empty bed, she momentarily wondered where she’d gone off to. Her roommate had not come home in the evening. She figured she’d stayed with someone else and hoped that that was true. They weren’t very close, as they had very little time together, but Rose mentally noted to make sure they had a process of warning the other when they’d be out. It was only practical and safe, after all.

An hour later, Rose was freshly washed and dressed in her dance uniform, not hesitating a single bit to be spending her free day dancing. In fact, she was somehow even more excited than she had been for her lessons. This was something more, something intriguing, something useful.

She arrived at studio five at eleven after wolfing down a sandwich, wanting to beat Hux there and stretch out before he arrived. But he surprised her, and was already in the room, standing and hunched over his cell phone, when she crested the top of the stairs and entered the room.

She laughed dryly, dropping her bag onto the floor against the wall, sliding her yellow hoodie off her shoulders.

“Did you even leave last night?”

Hux did not turn to look at her, but kept his eyes focused on his screen, eyebrows narrowed in concentration.

“I did.”

So, he wasn’t very talkative this morning. Hm.

Rose plopped to the floor and changed out of her converse into her pointe shoes, wrapping the strands tightly around her ankles and weaving them shut. Stealing little peaking looks at him as she did so, wondering what was so fascinating in his phone, she rose and rolled up onto her toes, tapping them on the ground, trying to shift her feet into a comfortable seat in the box of the shoes.

He turned suddenly up to look at her. Rose noted his eyes were a brilliant green in the morning daylight streaming through the windows, and his bright red hair had been combed into submission today. She thought it a pity, as it had looked quite pretty the day prior in its lack of organization.

“I have news from Mrs. Organa-Solo.” He shrugged off his greatcoat, wearing the same thing he always did, dropped his phone into the pocket and lay the coat gently on the floor, producing his gloves from somewhere and sliding them on.

Rose tried not to look obvious as she paid careful attention to the sound, bending down at the waist to adjust the straps on her shoes, flushing slightly at the rustling of the leather.

“What news?” She asked only after the sounds had stopped, silently commanding herself to get a grip.

“Casting calls are this week.”

Rose’s stomach filled with the sudden weight of dread. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.” Hux sneered softly. “I told her to push them back a week. We have the time. But she isn’t being reasonable.”

“Why wait?” Rose piped up, walking over to the bar at the back of the room and taking up first position, ready to warm herself up as perfectly as possible.

He shook his head distractedly, coming to join her at the bar, his eyes on the floor, lost in thought.

“You won’t be ready to audition.” He murmured. “You won’t get a solo part.”

Rose had begun to raise her arms and point her toes but froze, a stirring feeling fluttering in her belly. She stared at him, pursing her lips, then pushed out of the stupor, throwing herself into the next position and stretching her torso.

She was unconsciously straining every muscle, pointing her toes so precisely, unaware she was trying to impress him. But when he looked at her, she looked away and tried ever so harder, closing her eyes to relieve herself of the tension of his focus.

“Try that on pointe.” He uttered, and she felt him move toward her, the air different as he slid around her. “Yes, now bend. Watch your toes, Tico.”

She bit back a smile at the sound of his growl, doing as he asked and flexing her toes.

“Were you intending I fill a role?” She asked as nonchalantly as possible, her arm waving over her head and sweeping down by her thigh.

“Isn’t that the point of all of this?” He muttered drily, rubbing his jawline with a gloved hand. The sound of the scratching leather indicated a light stubble was present. Rose examined his face, intrigued. He seemed like the type of man to shave every day at the same time in the same fashion.

“Pay attention to your poses.” He snapped at her, clasping his hands behind him and straightening into ‘Boss Hux’ mode, rod perfectly stiff up his ass and spine.

Rose did as he wished, eyes front. He watched her, barking orders and commands, his demeanor having changed abruptly. Rose find it hard to keep up with his mercurial personality. One minute he was relaxed, even pleasant, and the next he was back in military drill formation, chewing her up and spitting her back out.

It was quite infuriating.

After some time, he joined her at the bar, standing behind her so he could stretch yet still observe her movements. Rose did not once relax during the rest of the exercise, extremely uncomfortable to have him loitering behind her where she could not see him. Her hairs stood on the back of her neck as he ordered her to move, grinding her teeth in place, wondering what had possessed her to come an hour early and subject herself to even one more moment of this man’s presence.

But casting calls were looming. Rose was both terrified and excited. Hux was probably right, she wouldn’t get a lead role on her first try, but it was fun to have something specific to work toward.

“Enough stretching.” He said some time later and pulled away from the bar to the center of the room. “Come.”

He didn’t have to order her to follow, she was already going, but did so more slowly and irritably after his bossy command.

“The show is Romeo and Juliet.” He did not miss her reluctance and gave her a filthy look, speaking more snappily than necessary.

“How romantic.” Rose stated sarcastically. “I suppose Rey and Ben will be leads.”

“They always do.” Hux uttered with mild impatience. “However, you could easily take the role of Rosaline. For today, I want to focus on the choreography from our lessons this past week. These are the actual corps moves from the most important portions of the show, and to land a role they must be-,”

“Perfect.” Rose uttered acerbically, interrupting him. “I know.”

He gave her a wry look, one eyebrow arched slightly, muttering something about insubordination. He did nothing in response to her attitude, instead stepped away from her and began to demonstrate the choreography again, walking her through each step and highlighting notes he’d mentally taken from her performance in the past classes.

“You tend to forget…” He began to narrate, gesturing down toward his pointed toe. “That this leg needs to turn inward on the step. If it isn’t turned before you step down, the whole move looks wrong. Turn into the step,” He demonstrated, Rose watching with focused attention, and finished the move, his hands flourishing out to the side. “Like so. Do it.”

Rose nodded, internalizing his commands, and turned to do as asked. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deep through her nose and rolled to pointe, dancing forward on her toes. She turned, bending her torso and raised her leg into a straight kick, rolling her hip and turning her leg like she thought he wanted her to. But as she touched it to the ground, he shouted for her to stop and strode forward, his lips pressed thin in annoyance.

“No, I said turn-,” He knelt before her, wrapping a gloved hand behind her calve, his thumb and forefinger digging in as he tightened his grip on her leg.

He was saying something, turning her leg in his grasp, but Rose’s ears were suddenly not working, all blood in her body rushing immediately downward as the spot where his glove touched her warmed and bloomed a pretty pink color beneath her tights. Her cheeks, too, warmed slightly, and she tried to even her breathing, her pulse quickening in her throat.

“Do you understand?” He inquired seriously. “Just like that.”

Rose didn’t know what to do. If she admitted she had no idea what he was saying, he’d be angry. But if she didn’t, he’d be angry when she did it wrong again. Nibbling on her bottom lip slightly, she nodded, deciding it’d be better to try it again and be punished than admit she had zoned out and be punished.

“Again.” He rose and backed away from her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rose walked back to the starting point and took position, still feeling that phantom touch on her leg: firm grasp, unexpectedly soft and warm texture. Her stomach fluttered as she thought of it, but she bit her cheek and brought herself back to the moment. Dancing forward, she pulled into the move again, trying to turn her leg the way he had. When he did not stop her, she sighed in relief and pulled herself through the rest of the dance again, turning to face him on the final spin as she finished, seeking further guidance.

“Better.” He admitted reluctantly. “Except… Try this.”

He made her do it ten more times. Each time he added some obsessive tweak, some new element, some varied stylistic trait. Whenever he was not satisfied with how she held her body, he touched her, a brush to her elbow, a grip on her wrist, a tap to her ankle, her thigh. Rose did a perfectly good job acting like none of this bothered her whatsoever, and remained the obedient student, knowing that all of this was absolutely normal and acceptable behavior, and just because she had some ASMR attraction to his leather gloves did not mean she could ruin this highly important lesson. Hux himself had absolutely no inclination, that she could tell, and she wasn’t about to clue him in.

“Go again.” He urged, watching her with a mildly mad and obsessive look in his eyes.

Rose did the move again, and again, and again, and again, raising the total eventually up to at least twenty times. By the twenty-first, she had grown exasperated of his obsessive-compulsive need for perfection, and intentionally moved through the motions more lazily than she had the entire lesson, specifically to infuriate him.

As she spun to a stop, she let out a small squeak of surprise as she felt a firm, leather covered palm collide with the side of her thigh in a dull ‘smack’, stumbling into Hux’s chest. He caught her with a gloved hand wrapped tightly around her wrist, running his palm down her leg and slapping her calve again, sneering at her.

“I. Told. You.” He growled through clenched teeth. “Turn. Your. Leg.”

Rose, barely registering the moment, her body roaring in approval as he practically pinched around her leg, flooded with shame and heat, managing to squeeze out a breathless “Yes, sir”.

“Again!” He barked, spinning her away from him, prowling around her as she danced away before him, throwing herself fully and freely into the motions, no longer willing to test his ire.

She could feel the difference this time, and as she spun, lifting her legs, turning on her toes and turning that damned leg just the way he wanted, she caught his eyes on her, full of pride and tremendous approval. She trembled with glee and threw her entire heart and soul into moving, ending the dance with her eyes on his, panting and gasping for air, electricity crawling up and down her body.

“Perfect.” He breathed, his voice warm with satisfaction.

Rose felt very much like fainting, but it wasn’t from the dance. She waited with bated breath, afraid to move, until he dismissed her.

“You’ve earned a break. Get some water.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth, eying her strangely, then turned away from her as if the action pained him greatly, walking out of the room and disappearing into the gloom of the hallway.

Rose sank to her hands and knees, staring at the grainy wood patterns in the planks of the floor, trembling head to toe. She had no idea what the hell was happening, but it terrified her to the point of wanting to quit.

Raising her head, she met her own gaze in the mirror, surprised to find a beautiful young lady staring back. Her eyes were bright with activity, her cheeks flushed, her lips rosy pink. Was this how he saw her? Was this what it was like to become perfect?

Rose thought it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to chase this feeling.

Hux took a while in returning, so long in fact that Rose began to feel suspicious that he had left the building entirely or had decided she wasn’t worth his time in training anymore. In the time he was gone she had drank half a water bottle, dried the sweat from her face and between her shoulder-blades, stretched and massaged her feet, and practiced the dance one more time, just to be sure she was doing it right. Intentionally watching herself in the mirror, she could tell the improvements she had made, and even though it was only a few moves, she swelled with pride.

He came into the room quickly, striding toward her with his hands clasped behind his back, looking quite calm and collected. Rose could not help but smile at him as he came to stop just beside her, giddy with glee that she had finally done something right, finally seemed to be headed in the right direction.

“I did it.” She grinned happily, bouncing slightly on her toes. “Teach me something else.”

Hux lowered his eyes to the floor, clearing his throat softly, his jaw clenched again. Rose studied him, mildly confused, but he spoke a moment later.

“I think we’ve done enough today, Tico.” He stated gently.

Rose shook her head, frowning in consternation. “No! I finally did it correctly. I need to go again, I need to learn more.”

“You need to allow your body to rest. Already practicing on a Sunday is less time from healing that your body needs.” He insisted. “It’s always great to end a lesson on a high note, anyway.”

Rose opened her mouth to protest again, but her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly in protest of human need. She pressed her palm against her stomach and chuckled softly at the face Hux was making. 

“Dinner time.” He emphasized, then turned away from her and walked toward his coat. Picking it up, he pulled it on and turned back to her. Rose watched him ready himself to leave, feeling reluctant to do so herself, but as he finally made his way back toward her, she gave in, and fetched her hoodie, pulling it on over her arms.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stated quietly, his behavior a little odd. Rose had seated herself to remove her pointe shoes but glanced up at him, nodding.

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

He hesitated, torn between leaving and waiting for her. Rose pretended not to notice, pulling off her shoes and reaching into her bag for her converse. After a very long and indecisive moment, Hux turned and strode out the door, hands buried in his pockets, set in his decision.

Both wished he’d turned back.

ꕥ

The week that followed, there was a dramatic difference in the way Hux treated her in his public lessons. Rose noticed immediately. Instead of insults or teardowns, he offered plenty of assistance, treating her like a human being in the way he spoke to her. She also noted that she was the only one of all in the company to receive such treatment. Everyone else had the normal amount of Hux-like derision and scorn.

Though, none of his changed behavior and mood kept him from being just as strict, just as demanding, just as grueling in his requirements of her. But in whole group or small group settings, it was easier to relax, as his attention was divided between so many others. Even so, Rose found herself longing for their one-on-one time, eager to find more ways to improve and perfect. She wondered about the psychology behind her behaviors, what her sister seeking the psych degree would say about this. Had she caught the same bug Hux had, and become obsessed with perfection? Or was this something different?

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

So Rose ignored it, instead chasing that feeling as she had decided Sunday afternoon, determined to feel more like a goddess of ballet and less like a two-year late bloomer with little experience and even smaller prospects.

The classes changed in dynamic as well. No longer were they large groups of dancers from the entire company, but Hux and Ben had begun to split them all up into different categories by skill, size, and ability. Rose had more varied classes throughout the day, with other first soloists stepping in as instructors as Hux was spread thin. She saw him less and less, which was mildly frustrating, but other instructors had interesting styles, too. Even Rey taught a lesson, focusing on above the head lifts of the extremities, she could do them so well. Rose found her classes fun, as Rey had very little patience and was prone to pop off on people, even if her version of popping off was more teasing and light-hearted than Hux’s.

Rose knew it was getting serious when she saw Leia Organa-Solo for the first time ever appear in practice. She stepped into the room to observe their whole class start of day warm-up on Thursday morning, looking pleasant and happy, but narrowing on the dancers with eyes like a hawk, glancing knowledgeably for what she knew to look for. She stayed for a long time, holding a quiet conversation with Hux in the corner as Ben, her son, conducted the stretches and preparations. After a while, she left, and Hux announced to them all that casting call tryouts would be held the next day, on Friday.

He caught her eye as he ended his little speech, nodding his head in acknowledgment toward her. Rose felt her face warm and nodded back, turning to focus again on her stretches. After lessons he approached her as she was packing her bag, leaving studio eight, murmuring to her so none other would hear to meet him in studio five at seven pm for more practice. Rose eagerly did as requested, knowing she’d be thankful for the extra help before try-outs.

She stayed with him in studio five until nine-thirty, and even by then it felt like it hadn’t been enough time. He’d been grueling, demanding, commanding, and Rose felt exhausted by the end, but still insisted they continue. Hux had to remind her that the dorm had a curfew on weeknights and if she missed it, she could lose any spot she had on the corps. Rose agreed after that, and they parted ways at the park, Hux standing by the gate and watching her go the whole time, while she thought of the many times his gloved hands had touched her during practice and how heady it made her feel.

She wanted to ask Paige about these things, worrying that her interest at his touch may become a problem eventually. But she knew Paige would read way too far into it, so she kept it to herself, marveling at the lack of professionalism she seemed to have gained. All dance instructors touched their students. It was impossible not to. But with Hux it felt more intimate, and Rose could not for the life of her turn that feeling off.

She slept fitfully that night, barely prepared for the next day’s events. When she arrived at the studio, a paper cup of coffee in her hand with bleary eyes and two messy buns tied up in her hair, she found an audition schedule posted in the foyer of the building. A small crowd was bundled around it, Rose joined them and read her time to be ten thirty in the morning.

The rest of the morning was spent in the largest studio with all the other dancers, each of them in various states of warm-up or stretching, a few slackers sat against the wall reading books or playing games on their phones. Rose stretched on the bar for a while, practiced some of her audition moves, then stretched again, watching the clock tick slowly by.

Sometime later, in the audition room, Hux glanced down the table toward the direction of the other judges, then flicked his green eyes toward the clock in the back of studio five. Rose was up next. He had to keep his fingers from drumming nervously on the table. Instead, he straightened his writing utensils so they were all facing the same direction, straightened his papers with a soft tap on the table, drank a nervous sip of water, and tugged at the collar of his button-up and tie. He was not sure how he would take it if she were to fail. He felt personally invested in this now, and for some reason it was giving him the jitters.

Leia gave him a calming smile just as Rose walked in. He met Leia’s eyes until she looked away, then moved eagerly to Rose’s small form, drinking her in as she crossed to the center of the room. She looked mercilessly pretty, her hair pulled back into those little buns, dressed in the same uniform as always, but something in her expression had changed in the past week. She even carried herself different. She was more regal, confident, and Hux felt proud to see it, as if he were the one responsible.

“My name is Rose Tico. I will be auditioning for the part of Rosaline.” She stated clearly, no fear, her arms held gently in front of her. When her eyes met Hux’s, she smiled softly, then raised up onto her toes and prepared, waiting for the music.

If he felt proud at her confidence, it was nothing compared to how he felt watching her dance. Rose absolutely blew it away, springing to life as if a book character off a page, throwing her entire body, mind, and spirit into the bending, willowy expression of her art. This was the girl he had seen on that audition video. This was the girl he’d been hoping to find. She was here, and he had helped make that possible. The thrill of power that gave him, the pride, he practically burst with it, as she ended her dance and bowed low to the ground, her front toe pointed, then raised and quickly sauntered out of the room.

“Nice.” Was all Leia said. Hux thought that was the understatement of the year.

“She should have the part for Rosaline.” He muttered, marking his own notes down on the page with pristine care.

“We still have many more auditions to go, Hux.”

He nodded obediently, reminding himself to remain impartial. This was a competition and only the best would win. There could be better still than Rose. Somehow, however, Hux severely doubted it.

ꕥ

A weekend past. Rose went by the dance studio many times, hoping to find Hux there, wondering if he intended her to have any more lessons, but she never could find him. Instead, she spent the time on the phone with her parents, reading a novel, and binge-watching her favorite shoes on Netflix. Kaydel was out of the dorm again that weekend, so she was alone, and even with other dancers from the company in the building, Finn included, there was no one available to really hang with. Altogether it was a very uneventful and rather boring weekend. But Rose supposed she should be thankful for the respite from dancing.

Monday rolled around and all students had been informed that classes would begin an hour later, giving all students ample time to view the roles that had been posted in the foyer of the building. Rose scurried to the studio as fast as she could, noting that on this day, a majority of the company’s dancers had already arrived, finding a buzz of commotion and conversation in the foyer. Rose pushed past a few swaying bodies and examined the postings.

**Cast for _Romeo and Juliet_ (Modernized; Arranged and Choreographed by Armitage Hux and Rey Johnson-Solo)**

First Soloists:

 **Juliet –** Rey Johnson-Solo

 **Romeo –** Ben Solo

 **Paris –** Poe Dameron

 **Mercutio –** Dopheld Mitaka

 **Tybalt –** Finn Hart

 **Nurse –** Phasma Hauptman

 **Lady Capulet –** Zorii Bliss

 **Rosaline –** Rose Tico

The list continued on with more minor characters and corps listings, but Rose had stopped reading after her name, barely able to believe her eyes. The title at the top of the list, under which bore her name, read “First Soloists”, which was entirely confusing. Hux had told her she wouldn’t be able to land a lead solo part, but he’d said she could land the part of Rosaline if she tried hard enough. But by this list, it looked like Rosaline was a lead solo part. She wasn’t familiar enough with Romeo and Juliet as a ballet to make any assumptions, but she knew enough to note that Rosaline was a minor character, who typically didn't have a solo. However, this version they were performing had been arranged and choreographed by in-house dancers, Hux and Rey, no less, so maybe that had changed.

Regardless, she had a role. She wasn’t just a backup dancer in the corps, though she’d probably dance in corps as well. Rosaline only served the first part of the story as a distraction for Romeo, until he met Juliet. 

Which might mean that she’d get to dance with Ben Solo!

Rose pulled away from the group and stamped her feet with glee, flushing with embarrassment as Finn emerged from the crowd, laughing at her behavior.

“Good news?” He asked with a quirked brow.

“I GOT A PART!” Rose couldn’t help herself and launched at him. He caught her, wrapping his arms around her and laughing infectiously in her ear. Setting her down on her toes, he pulled away, keeping one hand on her shoulder.

“Congratulations, Rose.” He murmured softly.

Rose beamed, too excited to stop, and thanked him happily. “I can’t wait to tell my family.”

She slid her backpack over her shoulder and began to fish through her bag for her phone. But as she pulled out the device, she heard a familiar voice speak clearly through the buzz of the crowd around them and glanced up.

“Tico. Hart.” Hux addressed them coldly as he approached. His eyes flicked to the place where Finn was touching her, his palm on her shoulder, then up to Finn’s eyes, his face expressionless.

“Hux.” Finn retorted just as coldly. He’d noticed the glance, but he didn’t remove his hand.

“Tico, may I have a word?” The ginger man uttered drily, his posture straight, shoulders back, arms clutched behind his back, wearing that imposing black coat again.

Rose began to pull away from Finn with a smile, but Finn tightened his hold on her shoulder and held her back, turning his body in front of her protectively.

“She was just about to call her family.” He uttered with a warning tone. “You can pick on her later.”

“Finn,” Rose interjected a little too strongly, beginning to catch on that some sort of machismo show-down was happening. “It’s really alright. I can call them at lunch. See you later!”

Finn reluctantly lowered his hand as Hux sneered at him with a curled lip, turning to walk through the crowd with Rose bobbing behind him.

He led her up onto the second floor and into studio five, the one they had been using for their secret practices. As they entered the room, he closed the door behind them, and Rose turned toward him with excitement, throwing her arms in the air. Hux flinched, shrinking from her as if afraid she was going to hug him, which honestly, he should have been, but Rose hesitated, lowering her arms quickly and giving him a soft smile.

“I got the part.” She beamed.

He cleared his throat, rising once more to his usual height and peering down at her. “Yes. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Rose rocked back and forth on her heels, watching his face. “Does this mean… have I earned your respect?”

Hux examined her with an expression that almost bordered on affection, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly in his throat. “For now. But it can be lost, so you must continue to work hard. I have carved aside some time for you today. You will spend lessons with me.”

“Really?” Rose’s eyes brightened; her eyebrows raised in surprise. “But… the other dancers… I’m not even a large part, how come you don’t have to work with them today?”

“The corps dancers are working on basic strengthening with a teacher invited from another school today. Ben and Rey are working together with Leia. The other first soloists also have individual instructors.” He explained carefully. “I volunteered to work with you.”

“I see.” Rose managed, lowering her eyes to the ground and shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other. She positively radiated joy.

“Snap to it, Tico.” He ordered, suddenly falling into his typical bossy role. “Pointe shoes on. You will be here until six pm sharp, perhaps later. We have much work to do.”

Rose hurried to do as he asked of her, noting that, for once in her life, everything seemed absolutely perfect.


	6. Pas de Bourrée

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Skywalker & Solo Company prepare for their first show, when something dramatic happens. Rose and Hux, preparing for dances, cross a line that cannot be uncrossed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HERE. IT'S HERE. Enjoy this [link](https://twitter.com/ardentlyloveyou/status/1224075975786467328) to my favorite GIF on twitter. Stare at it after reading. And try not to melt into a puddle. 
> 
> Chapter Title Note: Pas de Bourrée comes from [this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/) meaning "beating steps", a relatively common dance move in which the dancers open and close their legs. It is implied as a pun in this chapter, both for the term "beating", and for the opening and closing of... -cough- legs.

As time passed, Rose improved more and more daily. Hux spent much of his free time teaching her the choreography to Rosaline’s solo dance, explaining to her that the role would take some flirtatious and elegant acting on her part, as well as dancing. Rose had taken to this with determination, even if her cheeks were a little pink with embarrassment initially. Hux noted that she easily gained the qualities needed for the role of Rosaline within a matter of hours, throwing cute little looks over her shoulders, flicking her head in just the right way, darting her eyes, even the way she held her arms and posed into her dance moves. Rosaline was appearing right before his very eyes, and it was all Hux could do to remind himself that she was a dancer, his student, and not actually falling in love with him. Because Rose was very convincing.

Two weeks went by in this manner. Hux realized he was having to correct her less and less, her form adapting to his style and mandate almost automatically, on autopilot as if she had learned to peer into his mind and anticipate his desires before he even knew how to articulate them. She was blowing him away, day after day, but his obsession never cooled. Not once.

The dance company began to hold actual staged practices, and Hux saw less of Rose then. He had finally caved and given her his cellular number out of necessity, merely to ensure he could connect with her regarding practices, and they met when they could. Even so, Hux knew that soon he would no longer need to tutor her. He felt largely disappointed in this, and each and every other lesson, as she became utter perfection, he scrambled to find some reason to make her keep coming back, unwilling to give up on this small game they had started.

But one week, it was out of his hands, as the show was rapidly approaching, and the entire company spent every waking hour of a particular week in early October on the dancehall stage down the street from the studio. He was required there whenever any of the performances were going on, and Rose only when her set was needed.

It so happened, on a Wednesday morning of one such staging practice, that Hux stood at the edge of the stage, arms folded behind his back, standing rigid as usual, waiting for the dancers to find their places on set. Rose was seated in the audience, dressed in Rosaline’s gossamer pink performance gown, seated with Finn and Poe and Phasma, the four of them laughing about something. He studied her smiling expression, a deep pitfall of a feeling overcoming him, and it took all of his strength to tear his eyes away from her.

“Begin.” He shouted, and the lights dimmed. Everyone in the dance hall quieted quickly.

On stage, both Rey and Ben stepped into the light, he dressed in black, she in all white. This was the big one, the pas de deux (dance of two) in which Romeo and Juliet met once more below the balcony and fell in love. Ben and Rey had already perfected the dance. The purpose of today was not skill or precision, but placement on stage, and direction. Hux narrowed his eyes and watched as the music kicked on, and they moved into the dance.

As they rotated around stage, leaping, following one another, Rey throwing all of her real and actual passion for her husband into her face, really acting it out though it wasn’t very necessary for the day’s purpose. Hux took mental notes of their use of the stage, the width, the lighting, and glanced across the hall toward Leia, who was standing and watching on the other side of the stage, doing the same.

The large lift was up next, and Hux found himself lost in the way Rey ran for her husband, throwing herself into his arms near the front of center stage. He caught her daringly, spinning her around, and she slid down his body, resting on one pointed toe in arabesque, his hands around her waist. But that’s where it went all wrong.

Rey’s leg suddenly buckled beneath her, and Ben, who had just removed his hands and began to move away, the one who was supposed to support her and never let her fall, watched with utter horror as she slipped through his massive fingertips, and toppled off of the stage into the orchestral pit.

The music cut off immediately as someone screamed in terror. Ben lunged after her, supporting his massive body with one strong arm and hopping down into the pit. Hux stormed to the edge of the stage and stared down into the deep recess, as Leia bustled down the side stairs and fled into the pit after her son and daughter-in-law.

Rey, at least, seemed to be fine. She was groaning and clutching her pointe shoe, which seemed to be the source of the problem. She had been wearing a too-old and overused pair, and the support in the shoe had cracked, causing her tumble. Hux figured she may have a broken toe or two.

But Ben seemed concerned about something else entirely. He was kneeling over Rey, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, his forehead pressed into her belly, meaty hands pawing at her dress and clutching her fabric.

“Are you okay? Are you okay?” He kept repeating through soft gasps of air. Rey frowned and ran her fingers through his hair, trying to shush him, having the decency to look embarrassed as everyone gathered around them.

“Ben, she’s okay!” Leia laughed with an absurd tone, wondering why he was overreacting.

“But the baby-,” Ben breathed.

Everyone stopped breathing.

Rey glared at him suddenly, pulling away from him and hobbling to her feet. So her foot was injured, as she was tender in putting any weight on it.

“What baby?” Leia demanded, her tone hurt and loud, clear cutting across the room.

“Nothing.” Rey sniffed, her eyes filling with tears. “There is no… I can still do the show.”

Ben rose to his feet and turned to his mother, his face torn in rage and anguish. “She’s pregnant. She’s known for weeks. She refuses to give up the role.”

“Rey!!” Leia gasped, piercing her daughter-in-law with an angry look.

“I can still dance! The show will be over before I get any bigger.” Rey yelled back at her, shaking her head with sudden fury. “There’s no reason to stop now.”

“You could harm the baby, or yourself.” Leia insisted, her voice raising and shaking with a furious tremble.

Needless to say, after that revelation, Rey was no longer cast as Juliet. The dance company took a break from rehearsals for a day, allowing some time for the family drama that did not necessarily involve the others to blow over, even though that did not stop the gossip. Everyone argued over whether or not Rey should be allowed to dance, how torn up she was about it, how agitated and miserable. Everyone had their own opinion, but Hux stayed out of it. At least, he tried to, until he was summoned to a meeting with Leia, Ben, and Rey concerning the show.

“I want to do the show.” Rey demanded. Hux’s ears turned pink. He did not understand why he had to be present for their continuing family drama.

“I’ve already told you.” Leia uttered irritably, piercing Rey with narrowed eyes. “If you want to dance, get an abortion and lose my grandchild, and your husband in the process, I imagine. But I refuse to allow you to dance pregnant. I would refuse any of these girls to dance while pregnant. It’s your career or your family.”

Rey sniffled and turned her gaze up to Ben, giving him a soft pout. “I’m sorry… I-… I’m sorry for behaving this way. You know how important dance is to me.”

Ben shushed her lovingly, shaking his head and mumbling that it was okay, but he raised her hand and kissed her knuckles, murmuring “It’s your choice, but you know how I feel.”

“If I can’t do it, I want Rose.”

“Pardon?” Leia asked softly, raising an eyebrow.

“Rose. I want Rose to dance Juliet.” Rey uttered firmly. “Hux and I handpicked her. She’s my first hire here. If I can’t have the glory, I want her to. She deserves it.”

Leia looked like she didn’t know who Rose was, her face mildly confused, and she looked to Hux for confirmation. “You know this Rose?”

“She dances Rosaline.” Hux reminded her with a curt nod, hiding his excitement at Rey’s suggestion with a well-practiced poker face.

“Hmm.” Leia thought about it for a long moment. “She’s good. A bit rough, though… would she be ready?”

“We will already have to postpone the show a month.” Hux sniffed, throwing Rey a look of irritable disdain. “But I assure I can have her ready.”

“Well, Ben can lift anyone.” Leia looked her son’s massive form over, then sighed and nodded. “We can try it. As long as you stay off your feet, Rey.”

Hux left the meeting in extremely high spirits. He’d been looking for a reason to continue working with Rose. Now he had all the reason needed. He strode down the street toward the studio, whipping out his phone and sending Rose a very quick, very brief text: **Studio 5. Ten minutes. Dance gear.**

He expected mild annoyance or questioning from her, but she’d become so blissfully trusting and obedient of him. All he received back was a thumbs up emoji, regardless of the fact that it was a Saturday morning and Rose could be spending this day however she wanted. Hux could not help the excitement he was feeling, his stomach churning, his heart beating fast. He punched the code into the studio and took the stairs two at a time, retreating to the second-floor bathroom to change into his dance gear. Ready within moments, he strode into the studio to wait for her, feeling impatient for the first time in his life.

Rose scrambled to prepare, throwing on her uniform and whipping her hair up into two buns at the base of her neck, her new favorite hairstyle. She stopped, however, to dab a bit of lip color onto her lips, flushing on some mascara, and spent a minute too long examining herself in the mirror. She subconsciously knew it was because she was going to see him. She no longer cared enough to judge herself for it.

Rose smiled as she strode up the stairs and he came into view in the dance room, taking in his lax form standing and staring out of the window into the gray and rainy looking day. He turned when he heard her steps on the floor, and actually gave her the tiniest of lifts in the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t a smile, but it was so close that it took her breath away.

“What’s up?” Rose asked softly, already wearing her pointe shoes. She lowered her bag against the wall and crossed the room toward him as he approached her.

“I have good news.” He uttered softly, unconsciously stroking his eyes up and down her form. Rose flushed slightly but met his gaze with a soft look of confusion. “You’re the new Juliet.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Rey isn’t dancing Juliet anymore.” Hux murmured softly. “She insists that only you should replace her.”

He had expected her to be as excited as he, to jump and exclaim in joy, maybe even try to hug him again, which maybe he wouldn’t mind, but instead she gaped at him, a flood of fear rushing into her face.

“No.” She moaned softly, shaking her head and taking a step back from him. “No… no no… I can’t do that.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, quite confused. “Why not?”

“I-… I can’t!” She choked, trying to take deep breaths. It seemed like she might be hyperventilating. “That’s too much… too much pressure. I can’t dance LEAD in my first show!!”

“Of course, you can.” Hux insisted, his tone so matter-of-fact like he was stating the sky was blue. “I swear, Rose, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you could do it.”

Rose raised her hands to the back of her head and bent over at the waist, drawing a deep breath in through her nose. Hux stared at her for a moment, wondering what normal people who didn’t have weird issues like he did would do for comfort in a time like this. After a long moment, he placed his gloved hand on her lower back, rubbing small circles in what he thought would be a comforting motion.

“It’s okay.” He uttered flatly, not very practiced at this comforting thing. “Do you trust me?”

Rose slowly raised up, pressing her hands into her cheeks and staring up into his eyes fearfully. “I… yes.”

“Okay, then.” He did smile then, just a tiny bit, and Rose fell apart at the seams, her legs feeling like jelly. It lit up his face with youthfulness, warming his normally cool features, put a little sparkle in his eye. Rose felt the overwhelming urge to touch him, then, somehow, someway, even just to run her finger along his jaw. She clenched her hands instead.

“Will you teach me?”

“Why do you think I called you here? We begin now.”

The first few hours were all choreography. Rose had not learned a single move for Juliet, except for the generic moves that all corps members did at the same time as Juliet, and she had already perfected those. Hux focused on teaching her the steps for the pas de deux with Ben, which required lots and lots of touching, lots of trusting, and lots of lifting. Rose had danced with partners before, but never at this skill level. The only reason she was even attempting this was her trust in her instructor, but that trust took her a very long way.

The lifts were mostly all him, anyway. Rose worried, at first, when he told her to pose, warning her he was going to lift her, that he wouldn’t be able to. He was thinner than Ben, thin for a dancer, and the first time they’d met he’d told her she was too heavy. But what she hadn’t realized was that she’d already lost a few pounds, just from stress and exercise, and Hux had a remarkable amount of strength in his arms. He managed the lift just fine, which only allowed her to worry about other matters entirely.

The dance moves went like this: Rose would round the room, fawning over Romeo’s love, spreading her arms, making lovey faces, leaping and tiptoeing on point, and finally make her way over to Romeo. She would leap into his arms, he’d catch her, lift and hold her on his shoulder, then he’d slide her down the entire length of his body, and she’d land on arabesque, his hands around her, balancing her. Rose recognized it as the move in which Rey had toppled off stage. It was the most difficult move. No wonder he wanted to start with it.

They had been at it for hours and Rose was tired, covered in a light sheen of sweat, perched on his shoulders, his hands on her legs. He was talking to her, but like before when he’d put his hands on her, she was finding it difficult to listen. She had been fighting waves of arousal the entire time, finding his touch, his closeness, his overall presence entirely just too much.

“I’m going to drop you now-,” He warned, sliding a gloved palm down the length of her leg, steadying her for balance. “Turn and end on pointe before me in arabesque. You ready?”

Rose, her face burning, her leg tingling at the slip of his touch, made a soft sound of agreement. He shoved her in the air, turning her with a grunt of effort, and she slid through his hands, against his body, down to the floor. Her hands perched on his shoulders, but she forgot at the last minute that she was meant to go into arabesque, stumbling into the motion, much to his severe irritation.

He dropped his hands and stepped back from her, narrowing his eyes on her. He’d been gentler today, but sensing her unwillingness to focus, he was shifting, slowly donning that raging persona he possessed as instructor.

“What the hell was that?” He snapped. Rose winced.

“Not an arabesque.” She murmured softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“You seem to always have had an issue with this move.” He grumbled, turning away from her and running a hand through his sweaty hair. It stood up again in the front. Rose couldn’t even enjoy the mess, feeling thoroughly chastised.

“I’m sorry. I lost focus. Let me try again.”

“No. We’ll fix your arabesque first.” He commanded, pulling her by a touch to her wrist to the center of the room. “If you can’t do this basic form correctly, coming out of the lift will be pointless.”

“Okay.” Rose glanced down at his gloved hand as he released her, mentally kicking herself and telling herself to focus, focus, focus.

“Take your form.” Hux barked, his arms clasped behind his back, shoulders rigid and back straight as he moved around her. Rose did as commanded, rolling onto pointe on one foot and extending her right leg up and back behind her, arms outstretched gracefully for balance. She couldn’t see him move behind her but she could feel him. Goosebumps tickled down her flesh.

“No, no.” Hux sighed, as if to himself. Rose felt soft, warm leather wrap around her ankle and her leg stretched higher behind her. She whimpered at the stretch, biting her lip, and focused on the touch of his glove.

“Keep it here.” He breathed commandingly. “Hold it. Feel it stretch.”

All Rose could feel as her muscles numbed into the pose was his glove on her ankle. Her skin began to tingle from his touch. She bit her lip harder and tried to focus.

“Now,” Hux began, and Rose tensed as his hand slid up the back of her calve, slowly, then brushed over her thigh, and she felt his entire gloved palm press against the bare skin on her lower back. His second hand pressed flat against her abdomen. Rose shuddered, holding in a sound that was trying to escape, feeling a ripple of arousal move through her, ending in a clench of muscles that were long out of use.

“Lean… into the pose.” Hux was barely whispering, his voice deep and sultry near her ear, as he pressed against her abdomen and guided her torso the way he wanted it to go.

Rose bit back another whimper, her legs were beginning to tremble from holding this pose, but his hands, his hands on her, in those gloves, and his voice, it was all becoming a little too much for her. She tried to focus on dance, she tried, knowing he was only touching her because that’s what he was supposed to do.

“Good.” Hux stated approvingly. Something in his voice had changed. It was darker, somewhat.

Rose focused on breathing in through her nose and out through barely parted lips, keeping her eyes on a fixed spot on the wall to increase her focus. She’d never held an arabesque this long before, and while it was torturously painful, it was nothing compared to those long-fingered hands in those soft, warm leather gloves.

She jolted in surprise as she felt those gloves on her again, this time both wrapped around her thigh and pulled. She followed their direction, allowing herself a soft whine, knowing he’d take it as pain of movement, but she was long past the pain now. Every bit of leather that touched her, so close to the apex of her thighs, was sending signals there, and it was responding in kind. Rose could feel her quim tremble with joyous anticipation, mortified and praying that his demonstration with her would end soon, so she could crush her thighs together and hide her arousal.

“Keep this leg up.” Hux barked, removing his hands and tapping two fingers on the inner part of her raised thigh. “Control the muscle right here. Feel it tighten. Command it.”

Rose shook violently as she felt his fingers stroke along her inner thigh, he was just showing her the muscle, that was all, and the movement caused his knuckles to brush against her cunt. Even through clothing Rose could feel that leather and she clenched, biting on her lip so hard she tasted copper. If she made a sound now, he would know. Silently she begged for the demonstration to end, begged for him to free her from his mercy.

But he had walked away then, turned his back to her, leaving her standing like this. Rose’s arms were now trembling, her lower back muscles pinching and burning, and she took the opportunity to shift on her pointed toe, not enough to do much help, but to rebalance herself and relieve some of the pressure.

“Tico.” He uttered darkly, his back still to her. His head was down as if he were staring at something.

“Yes, sir?” Rose uttered through trembling lips.

“What is this?”

He turned toward her, holding up his gloved hand before her. There, on the knuckles of his glove, was a shiny patch of her slick. Rose bloomed in mortification, her entire body flooding with fire, and she started to relax her muscles out of the arabesque hold.

“I did not tell you to move!” Hux snapped.

Rose swallowed and pulled back up into the pose, her eyes averted, face burning.

“And what is this?” He uttered again, softer this time, and Rose felt a gloved thumb brush along her lower lip. She parted them instinctually, focusing on how it felt to be touched there by him, using it to distract from the pain of the pose.

“You’re bleeding.” He breathed. Their eyes met, and Rose shivered and trembled under his gaze. There was hunger in his stare, curiosity, desire.

She closed her eyes as he stroked the blood from her lip, jolting them back open as she felt his forefinger press gently past her lips into her mouth. She tasted blood and leather and whined softly, curling her tongue around his finger. She watched him watch her, his face distorting with lust and confusion, and softly bit down on the digit against her tongue, suckling gently at the tip of his gloved finger.

His response was exactly what Rose needed: his pupils expanded, his face flushed, and his posture grew rigid, his legs parting a little for what Rose could only hope was to make room for something growing there.

“Relax the pose.” He uttered, pulling his finger out of her mouth and beginning to turn away from her.

Rose sighed with relief and lowered her arms and leg, but all of her digits were numb, and as she placed her formerly raised foot on the ground her legs buckled. She cried out in surprise as she fell, but he was there, and he scooped her up against his chest before she’d hit the ground, their faces now uncomfortably close to one another.

Rose stared at him as he carried her over to the bench along the wall, knowing she only had seconds to act before she’d lose this moment of closeness, before he could back away from what they both knew they wanted in the name of propriety as her instructor.

She kissed him. Her fingers rested tentatively at his jaw, her entire body burning in longing to feel his soft and warm lips beneath hers. She wasn’t very experienced, and to her chagrin, he did not respond in kind, but dumped her unceremoniously on the bench as they reached it, backing away from her with a serious stare, straightening the glove she had soiled on his hand.

“This is hardly professional of you, Tico.” He admonished breathlessly.

Rose narrowed her eyes at him in frustration, taking in his obvious signs of arousal. There was no hiding his erection in ballet spandex, his cheekbones were on fire, and his pupils swallowed the green of his irises. The fact that he was able to overcome his desire in favor of staying professional filled her with shame and angered her that he was the one remaining so put together.

“You’re right.” She bit out acerbically, turning to minister to her sore and swollen feet, massaging the bridge of her foot over her pointe shoes. Her thighs pressed together, and she could feel the damp mess she had made, all over her pointless arousal around him. “Do you want to go again? I can do the arabesque correctly now.”

Hux gave her a pointed look, his eyes still on fire, keeping a safe distance back from her. “I believe… you may need to go home and take care of things. It would be best we end our session for the day.”

But he didn’t want to. He very much wanted to fuck her brains out right there in the middle of the dance floor, so many times, mark the room with their scent and her screams, like he’d thought of so many nights since deciding to tutor her. But she was his student. It was unethical. He could lose his job. She could lose her job. It was wrong. Why did things that were wrong always seem so goddamn right?

“C’mon, Hux.” Rose forgot herself, his surname slipping off her tongue. “I promise you. I won’t make it weird. You’re making it weird. It’s just… just your gloves.”

“My gloves?” He growled softly, so flustered he didn’t dare correct her slip.

“Yeah.” Rose felt her cheeks burn. She wondered if they could melt off her face. “I… I think I have a thing for them.”

“Not me?” He tried to sound assuring, strong, professional. He hated the sound of disappointment in his voice.

“Not you.” Rose lied, giving him a genuine look. “It was just… the demonstration. If we’re dancing, I will be all professional. I swear.”

It was a long time, several jaw-clenching seconds and a nervous eye twitch, before Hux relaxed and nodded, rolling his shoulders and striding to the middle of the dance floor. Rose stood slowly, testing her toes in her pointe shoes, then crossed the room to him. They took up position, neither of them meeting the other’s eye. Hux counted them off. 

She came at him fast, spinning around the room with perfection, then sprinting forward and leaping into his arms. He firmly clasped her waist, spinning with the momentum of her leap, and heaved her up onto his shoulder. He wrapped one gloved hand around her thigh, hearing a catch in her throat as she posed. As he shifted to bring her down, the next move being the arabesque, he wrapped both hands around her thighs and lifted her off his shoulder, her body sliding through his grip. He felt every inch of her body pass beneath the leather on his palms as gravity pulled her down, so firm yet soft, so warm. As he caught her waist in his hands, helping her alight upon her pointed toe, Rose trembled under his touch and a soft groan cut out of her, low and heavy. They both froze; she did not move into arabesque. He did not pull away.

They stared at one another, Rose watching his face with a mix fear and lust in her eyes, terrified that he would react angrily, potentially even abandon her as a student, as a partner.

Hux moved first. His palm slid down her side, wrapping around her front, and pressed flat to her stomach. He spun her and yanked her toward him, her back flush to his front, and dipped his head down to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her neck, his tongue laving her flesh.

Rose groaned openly, tilting her head to give him room, inviting, and gave a squeak of surprise as she felt herself being dragged away, weightless in his grip. They fell roughly onto the bench, she in his lap, his erection pressed into the cradle of her ass, his quick, excited breaths the only sound in her ears.

He pulled her thighs open, staring at her across the room in the mirror. In the dull light, his eyes looked hooded, sultry, his ginger hair a soft flame. Rose met his gaze in the mirror, did not look away as he slowly dipped a gloved hand down and cupped her pussy, pressing the knuckle of his thumb into the hood of her clit. She breathed in sharply, arching into him, and pressed her palms into his thighs.

“How are we going to dance together?” He whispered painfully, running his nose along the rim of her ear, slowly massaging her through her clothing with rounded moves of his thumb. “If my touch makes you so wet? How?”

Rose gasped as he rubbed a little too hard, her body jerking once at the overstimulation on her sensitive bud. She shook her head, hooking the curves of her knees over his, unable to say no anymore.

“I asked you a question, Tico.” He bit out, and ground into her again. Rose bit her lip to keep from whining, seeing stars.

“I… I don’t know, s-sir.” She managed.

He made a thoughtful sound, removing his thumb and running his fingers lightly up and down the crease of her, petting her. Rose tried her best to stay still, her fingernails digging into his legs.

“If I satisfy you…” He mused, his teeth grazing her throat, earning a soft mewling breath of need from her. “Will you be set to dance again?”

She felt his free hand at her throat, gloved thumb pressing along her jugular, knowing he wanted an answer. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded weakly, eyes glued on his in the mirror across the room.

“I’ll teach you how.” He purred. “I am a gracious instructor. After this, you’ll have to manage all on your own. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Rose felt a thrill roar through her as he snapped the buttons of her leotard open with one hand, petting her again with long, soft strokes of his gloved fingers. She shivered against him, turning her head and angling up to peer at him beneath her lashes. He caught her gaze and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her nose, causing it to scrunch up as she blushed.

“Watch.” He nodded toward the mirror and Rose obeyed, as he grabbed the crotch of her tights and yanked, ripping a hole in them. Working two fingers inside, he stretched and ripped the fabric open, Rose not even sorry, trembling in need, and she felt the leather against her actual skin as he brushed her panties aside.

“Are you… gonna remove your gloves?” She managed as he hesitated, not sure if a leather glove was entirely safe ‘down there’.

“I don’t think so.” He hummed in her ear, flicking his forefinger through her labia. “You said you liked them.”

Rose nodded, rolling her hips back, feeling his forgotten erection press between her ass cheeks. He stiffened with a hiss, pressing his free hand flat against her stomach.

“Don’t do that.” He commanded, fully aware that making such a demand would only make Rose want to do it more. But luckily he beat her to the punch, and flicked his finger again, striking her little rosebud and earning a jerking whimper. 

“So sensitive.” He mused, running his fingers through her slit. Rose could hear the sound of how wet she was, little squelches of fluid, and when he readjusted his approach to her, she could see the shine of her slick on his fingers in the mirror. 

The leather felt different, though the only comparison Rose had was her own hand in masturbation. No other man had ever touched her like this.

“You get your fingers nice and wet, see.” Hux was beginning to narrate, running his fingers once more through her slick. She pressed her back into his chest, a hand raising over her shoulder, laying her palm against the back of his neck, fingering the soft touch of hair there. “And once you’re prepared…”

Rose sighed as he pressed the tip of his middle finger against her opening. Tapping his thumb against her clit, pressing into it lightly, he sank his middle finger straight into her, the sound of leather rubbing rough against her skin a quick shift of sound.

Rose rolled her head back against his shoulder, moaning softly. It wasn’t smooth, like skin, but damn did it feel good, and as he pulled his finger out a little and pressed deeper, curling within her to test her comfort level, her nails scraped against his neck and she breathed out his surname.

Hux glanced at her, his eyes soft. He rather liked that sound.

Retreating a little, he curled his finger upward as he slid back in, pressing her clit with his thumb, his middle finger hooking inside her, and Rose tensed against him, her pointe shoes pointed over his thighs.

“Would you like to come?” He asked her, as if wondering which latte she’d like at a coffee shop.

She nodded.

“Would you really?”

“Yes.” She nodded again, eagerly.

“Then say my name.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Hux.”

He began to move within her, not quite thrusting, the leather, thick and swollen with damp, would not allow such movement, more pressing his finger inside her, curled like a hook up into that sensitive spot. She responded with a sharp inhale, her entire body tensing, her nails pinching his flesh, and he moved harder, faster, beginning to roll his thumb over her bud.

“Not that name.” He bit out against her ear. “My-… my name.”

Rose tried to remember, not having used it really. It wasn’t proper. He was her instructor.

“Rose…” He bit at her throat, lapping the red mark he left. “Rose, my name…”

Her entire body flooded with heat at the sound of her name on his lips, but still his evaded her, as that rough leather filled her, pressed into her in the most delicious of places, his thumb stumbling messily over her clit.

“I-… I don’t,” She mumbled, distracted, and felt a punishing bite on her throat, a strong pull of his lips as he sucked her flesh, growing limp and lolling against him like a rag doll as the scratching squelch of his glove within her assaulted her ears.

“I’ll stop.” He warned, nudging her earlobe with his nose. “What’s my name? Who is it that’s petting your pretty pussy?”

Rose wasn’t so sure why it mattered, but if he stopped, she was sure she’d die. She was already starting to climb, and he could tell, responding by picking up speed, his palm now smacking against her cunt, his gloved finger all but stabbing into her nerves, waves of pleasure rising like the tide.

“Don’t, please…” She begged, rolling her hips back against him again. He stiffened at the roll over his cock, unable to help himself, and thrust upward against her so that she became unseated from his lap, one leg slipping off the end of his thigh.

“No-,” she whined as he shifted, thinking he was stopping, but he bucked her up and over him again, grinding his erection into her firm ass as he slammed his finger within her.

“My. Name.” He demanded, beginning to slow.

Rose scraped her nails against his scalp, bucking her hips into his hand, chasing her orgasm, desperate, and cried out on trembling lips: “Armitage! Your-… your name is-,”

She gasped out a laugh of delight as he growled into her ear, beating within her with renewed vigor. Her entire body vibrated as he picked up the tempo, assaulting her with the curve of his finger, grinding into her clit with his thumb, and blessedly, thankfully, she hit that peak, her spirit spilling into tumultuous pleasure. Her back arched against him, her throat whined into a high moan, and she clenched down on his gloved hand with her thighs, feet pointed inward as her muscles seized.

She chanted his name on weak lips as he stroked her down, just barely aware of the soft kisses he was pressing into her neck, against her spine, at her hairline.

“Good girl.” He mumbled, a sound of pleasure rumbling up within his chest.

Rose felt a pressure within her swell and soar at his praise, running her fingers up into his hair from behind and falling against his chest, sated and entirely exhausted. He finally stopped fully, pulling his finger out of her, a long string of her fluids connecting his middle finger, snapping and slapping down against her inner thigh.

“Oh dear.” He whispered with a frown. “Just look at my glove. It’s ruined.”

Rose couldn’t help the giggle that came out of her. She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled his hand toward her, intent on licking them clean. But he stopped her, pressing a soaked finger to her lips and shaking his head.

“These are mine. I’ll clean them.”

He pushed her to her feet then, rising behind her, and Rose turned, staring at him in confusion as he crossed the room and reached for his coat with his clean hand.

“Where… are you going?” She asked softly, feeling sated and pleased, but still aching within. He’d gotten her good and ready. She expected him to fuck her, too.

“Our lesson is over. I will see you tomorrow.”

He began to stride for the door, holding his soiled glove cradled against his chest. Rose could see that poor, straining erection of his in his side profile. She wanted to ease it. Maybe with her mouth.

“Armitage.” She called softly, stepping after him. He froze, then turned to look at her, his gaze cold and unfeeling, a completely different look than the one had just given her when his hands had been on the most intimate part of her.

“Mr. Hux or Sir.” He corrected. “I will see you tomorrow, Tico.”

And with that, he was gone. Rose had never felt so embarrassed, alone, or empty. She wasn’t sure what had changed, what had just happened. He’d given her what she wanted, partially, but though they’d crossed a threshold in their relationship, he just went back over it. Without her.

Rose had a dreadful feeling that they should not have just done what they did. Based on his reaction, he already regretted it, and she was terrified that that would also mean that she’d just lost him as her instructor.

So much for avoiding romance and focusing on a dance career.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beautiful artwork up above was a commission request from inannaandthehulupputree on Tumblr, made by [ @Izam_w](https://twitter.com/izam_w/status/1228870788041887745?s=20) on Twitter, for this scene in this fic. I cannot begin to describe how thankful I am for Huluppu for commissioning this for my story, and for Izam who is a phenomenal artist. Both of them make Gingerose such a fabulous fandom, and they fill it with love!


	7. Pas de Quatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After crossing a line, Hux hesitates to teach the little flower ballerina on his own anymore, so he calls in reinforcements!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I am seeking a Beta reader. I don't need help so much with grammar and spelling (I'm oddly a perfectionist about that stuff), but rather what I want help with is plot. The ideal reader would be someone who knows Hux and Rose quite well and can help me keep them in character, as well as offer suggestions on plot: whether it's cheesy, too quick, too slow, that sort of thing. If you're interested, find my Twitter in the notes below and send me a DM! Or leave a comment, but it may take me a day or two to see it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Finn got his last name "Hart" from [EvilbabyRey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilbabyRey/pseuds/EvilbabyRey)! Thank you! <3 
> 
> Chapter title: Pas de Quatre from [this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/) meaning "dance of four". Just to be clear, this is not a sexual reference, but a literal one. Four people get involved, in some way, in a dance in this chapter. 😊
> 
> I've updated the chapter count to reflect what I predict it will end with. But honestly, it could be more. I have a basic outline and an ending I need to get us to, but in between there are many differing variables, so expect this number to potentially change. It probably will! But I wanted to give you sort of an idea. Thank you for reading!

Rose sat in a chair at the window in her dorm room, knees curled up into her chest, dressed for sleep in little black shorts and a soft pink tanktop. She was alone in the room, Kaydel out yet again, and staring morosely out the window. Her damp hair lay combed and strung out on her shoulders, her eyes red from crying subtle tears while she showered.

Her cellphone lay on the windowsill before her, the screen dark, but Paige’s comforting voice was coming out of the dim device.

“So who’s teaching you the part of Juliet?” Paige inquired with curiosity. Rose had already been on the phone with her an hour and revealed the news, Paige having screamed about it for at least half an hour. Rose wished she could be as pumped up about it.

“The main instructor.” Rose sighed heavily. Her thoughts drifted to his fluffy ginger hair (after sweaty practices had mussed it up) and his soulful green eyes. Her stomach cramped slightly.

“Ah, the dick head guy. Okay.” Paige remarked snidely with a little snort. When Rose did not reply, silence stretching between them, Paige piped up “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Rose did not sound very convincing despite her best effort.

“Okay.” Paige uttered with a challenging tone. “What happened?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Uh, yes you can? We tell each other everything. Just cause you live in another freaking state now doesn’t mean you get to back out of the sister agreement.” Paige replied with sass. “What’s the matter?”

Rose picked at a loose thread on her shorts, staring at the bending limbs of a tree outside her window. “I did something really stupid. Like… really fucking stupid.”

“You’re twenty-one. I believe you are contractually obligated to make really stupid decisions on a regular basis.” Paige sounded like there was absolutely no problem, but Rose figured it was more for her benefit, trying to cheer her up.

“Yeah, well this was really, really stupid. Like… I may have ruined my career stupid.”

Paige gasped dramatically. “Noooooo, did you blow up the studio?! I told you not to cook while you’re there.”

“No.” Rose was getting all worked up again about the entire thing with Paige goading her over the line. She thought of fluffy orange hair again, a plush mouth roaming over her neck, and pressed her fingers to a little red mark he had left there. It was warm to the touch and sensitive. Rose flooded with renewed heat once more.

“I had a moment with my dance partner.” Rose admitted suddenly, letting it all rush out in one breath. “We didn’t fuck but… but we almost did. Might as well have.”

“Did you go down on him?” Paige was never one for vague answers. She’d demand details until Rose had died of starvation being stuck on the phone with her so long.

“He used his fingers.” She uttered through clenched teeth. “G-… gloved fingers.”

The other end of the phone was silent. Rose burned with embarrassment.

“I didn’t know my lil sis was so kinky.” Paige laughed suddenly. “Who is this mother fucker that I may hit him up with threats and the like?”

“He-,” Rose hesitated. She loved Paige. She really did. But just now, in the midst of her horror and trepidation, she could not bring herself to admit that it was her instructor who had man-handled her so well. “His name’s Finn Hart.”

Paige didn’t need to know the real name. And she’d forget, eventually.

“Awww, his last name is heart? Did this heart fellow make you come?”

“Hart, like the deer!” Rose insisted with a cough.

“Answer the question.”

Rose pursed her lips, then murmured “Yes.”

Paige erupted into joyous roars of admiration. Rose leaned away from the phone, finding her mood lifting a bit in the infectious attitude of her sister.

“The first guy to ever win that title! Does he know how special he is?”

“He’s not special!” Rose bleated before thinking, and his image swam into her mind again. It felt like a betrayal, almost, to say such a thing. Was he special to her? “He’s just a guy. It won’t happen again. I need to focus on my career.”

“Well, if you’re going to be dancing with him until the end of the show season, I’d say it’s bound to happen again.”

Rose sniffled, tears swimming to her eyes, her fists clenching with mild fury. “No. He made it quite clear he regretted it and we’d never be doing anything of that sort again.”

Paige made a sad sound. “What do you mean? Was he rude to you?”

“Yes,” Rose thought of his stupid _Call me Mr. Hux_ command. She’d like to see him make her. In fact, she had half a mind to send him a million texts of nothing but ARMITAGE over and over just to pester him.

She reached for her phone.

“Girl,” Paige called through the phone, effectively stopping this poor decision on Rose’s part. “You gotta learn to use them, abuse them, then lose them. You’re too young to be in a serious relationship anyway. And your career is just taking off. There’s plenty of time for a relationship later. For now, enjoy what he gave you and move on.”

Rose could see the logic in this, but for some reason her heart wasn’t really taking to it all that much. She sighed heavily, wiping her eyes free of tears, tired of crying over that stupid ginger monster.

“Fine. I used and abused him. He’s got blue balls and I’m better off for it.”

“That’s my girl!!” Paige celebrated with a squeal. Rose smiled warmly.

A few blocks over in an old second story condo, Armitage Hux was doing his best to deal with his blue problem. He’d made it home quicker than ever, the drive back in his Lexus a mild blur, and now, sweating in his dance clothes as he snatched a can of cat food out of the pantry, he was feverishly trying to run through his nightly routine as usual, intent on controlling his body, mind over matter, ignoring his need.

His gloves had been removed and were laying on the kitchen counter, the one dirtied by a certain pretty little flower laying on top of the other so as not to contaminate or be contaminated by any surface-level toxins on the immaculately clean countertop. The sight of it, discolored and still damp, made his mouth go dry and his cock throb mercilessly.

He turned toward Millicent’s food bowl and leaned down, ripping the aluminum top off the can. She came running at the sound, her little bell around her neck tinkling merrily, and she feasted on the little fish particles that he dumped into her bowl. Typically, Hux would wait with her while she ate, content to watch his only companion in the entire world fill herself with sustenance, but the glove was mocking him.

He found himself staring at it not a moment later, his palm ghosting down over his straining cock. He hissed, hesitating a moment only, then snatched the glove off of the counter and stormed down the hallway into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind him, even though he lived alone.

He felt so dirty, so very dirty, but he thought he deserved to feel shame, as he shed his clothing and stepped into the shower, pressing that glove to his nostrils and breathing deeply. His head swam at the scent of her mixed with the heady burnt odor of leather, a spicy sweet culmination of sex and candy. It took very little to relieve his pain, he was so aroused. A few minutes of stroking, supporting his lean back against the shower wall, rutting his nose into that glove, lapping at the limp fingers, sucking on the sweet-salt of her remnant cum, until he himself imploded upon the shower wall, the back of his head hitting the tiled wall of the bathroom with a punishing knock, legs trembling as he sank to a seat on the shower floor. He stared at the glove, then down at his body which, in his eyes, was frail and too lean, never strong enough or good enough, never enough at all, certainly not good enough for her sweet goodness.

He felt certain that Rose Tico was going to be the very death of him.

An hour later, finally released from the vice-lock of arousal, having cleaned every inch of the shower and himself and locking the glove away somewhere special as a keepsake, he settled into the sofa in the living room, his entire body aching with the exercise of the day. Millicent, so fluffy and so orange, hopped up into his lap and he began to pet her, as was their nightly routine. He glanced down at his cell phone which lay face down on the side table beside the sofa. He had told her they would resume lessons tomorrow, but he was no longer certain he was strong enough to be around her. As he mulled this over in his mind, doing his best to keep himself from telling her their private lessons were over, inspiration occurred to him, and he raised the phone and dialed a number from his contacts, waiting impatiently for the person on the other line to pick up.

After Paige hung up, Rose snuggled deep into her bed, hugging onto her stuffed puffin, staring out into the dark of the room. Her entire body was sore from dancing, her feet were aching and covered in small blisters, but the strongest sensation was the phantom memory of his hand on her, his mouth exploring what little he could reach over her shoulder. She remembered the little kiss to her nose with fondness, touching her fingertips to it and blushing, closing her eyes to imagine he were with her in bed. She rolled her hips back, as if he might be waiting behind her, as if she might tease him, and breathed his name on a quiet sigh.

Her phone dinged with a notification, and her eyes flew open.

She knocked the puffin to the ground in her haste to sit up, reaching for her phone which was charging on the nightstand a foot away. Unlocking the screen, she peered at it in the darkness with stinging eyes, a thrill flooding her to see it was a text from him.

**Tomorrow studio 8 @ 9:00 am. Don’t be late.**

Rose fell back into bed with a giggle of glee, kicking her feet under the covers and thrusting her arms high over her head. He wasn’t canceling on her. He was still going to instruct her! Rose would find a way to resist her feelings, she would. If it meant she could see him every day and learn from his experience, she would do whatever it took to be a good little ballet student.

Sunday morning, Rose stood stretching in studio eight at eight-thirty. Hux was nowhere to be found, which was slightly uncharacteristic of him, and it was starting to make Rose feel sick to her stomach. She worked through her routines and positions with methodical precision, unconsciously putting all of everything he had taught her in the few months she’d known him into her form: stretched, pointed toes, graceful spine, tucked bottom, properly turned legs.

At eight fifty-five a sound was heard downstairs. Rose dropped the leg she had lifted up onto the bar to stretch and turned as multiple sets of footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. Confused, she tucked an errant curl of hair behind one ear and crossed away from the bar, closer to the door to see better.

As Armitage entered the room, he avoided her gaze, though she knew the moment he became aware of her presence. His spine stiffened somehow even more than usual, his ears turning red over the upturned collar of his coat, his lips pressing into a more rigid scowl. She stared at him, soft flutterings in her belly as she took in his healthy look, his lean, rod-like posture, his full, red mouth. Though one thing was off about him, and she noticed it almost immediately. His red-orange hair was still damp, hanging slightly over his forehead in a floofy slump, uncombed, not gelled. Rose’s fingers itched to work through the soft looking strands.

He glanced over at her with a mild flash of disdain behind his eyes, as if disapproving of her staring, then looked back over his shoulder as two other individuals came into the room. Rey and Ben followed him into the studio, the first dressed in a loose-fitting dress covered in daisies, the second dressed in the dance uniform of the company. Rey immediately skipped across the room to her, outstretching her arms toward Rose and pulling her into her embrace, her lower lip trembling.

“Rose!” She cried softly. “I’m so sorry. I know this is a lot of pressure. Are you okay taking my place?”

Rose, slightly stunned, met Ben’s eyes across the room, who looked like he was sizing her up. She wasn’t entirely sure he made a good partner for her, he was so large, so much taller, so much thicker and all around bigger. She glanced between him and Hux, wondering why she’d never thought that about the ginger, even though he pretty much towered over her as well. But his form was much thinner. She thought his size and stature complimented her less than athletic looking body, whereas standing next to Ben could be peculiar.

“I-,” Rose began, pulling back from Rey and giving her a soft frown. “I’m happy to help. I’m freaking out a little, but I think… I think with Arm- er… Mr. Hux’s help I can manage.”

She’d almost said Armitage, had she almost said Armitage? Rose was thankful, at least, that Rey didn’t seem to notice and they were in studio eight today, not studio five. She wasn’t sure she could look at that bench along the wall the same way ever again. 

She examined Hux once more as he went over to the sound system, fiddling with some wires. He did not remove his coat, and as he reached into the pocket for his phone, she noticed one more peculiar thing. He wasn’t wearing his gloves.

“Hux invited us here for practice. He said you’re learning the moves for the pas de deux. I’ll help you learn them.” Ben explained as he crossed the room, taking Rey’s hand and pulling her toward him. “Rey’s here to help guide you. We’ll do this as a team.”

Rose smiled and thanked them both, but her cheeks were flushed a little. She knew why Armitage had brought them here, and it wasn’t out of necessity to teach her. It made sense to learn the moves with Ben, sure, but to call them in on a Sunday just for her? She wondered how he’d convinced them. They were buffers between her and him, protection, so things wouldn’t get out of hand. It was sensible, practical, and Rose appreciated his decision.

Hux strode over to join them then, his hands in his pockets. His face was expressionless, but as he glanced over the three standing there, his eyes were drawn to an irregularity it was taking all of his strength to ignore. Rose had a scarf tied around her neck, a little pink thing, the ends knotted into a rounded bow, almost like it were an elegant choker of sorts. It was the cutest fucking thing he had ever seen, and knowing why she wore it, what it concealed, sent tremors all over his body. It’s presence, however becoming, was an unwelcome addition to the uniform, as well, and he could not help the overwhelming desire to correct her, fix her, make her remove it. If they had been alone, he would have made her. But with Ben and Rey here, perhaps it was safer for them not to ask any questions.

“Tico. Solo. Let’s begin, I haven’t got all day.” He barked.

Rey gave Rose a look of exasperation, then stepped over to the side of the room and took a seat on the floor, tapping her toes together in her flats as she examined them from her space. Rose and Ben moved to the bar to warm-up, Hux walking them through basic positions and commenting on their form. Rose did as required of her, hyper-intent and focused, now that certain distractions were put away. He didn’t touch her a single time during the warm-up, but he also never once put on his leather gloves.

Practice passed by in a much different way. It was strange, having both Armitage and Ben guiding her, telling her what to do, assisting her. They were both such potent personalities, yet so different, and Rose found herself more often than not feeling confused about what the two wanted her to do. Thankfully, that was when Rey would step in, metaphorically knock their disagreeing heads together, and clarify for Rose how she should move, bend, look, and act.

When it came time to practice the lifts, Rose was nervous. Ben was so big, so imposing, he sort of terrified her. But it was more than that: she didn’t know him very well. It took quite a bit of faith and trust to sprint across a room on your toes and hurl yourself into the waiting, or not waiting, arms of someone else, who may or may not catch you. So many things could go wrong: he could slip, and she’d fall, she could overcompensate, which he’d also do, and they’d both fall, she’d aim too high, too low, and maybe they’d collide, or perhaps he’d just drop her flat out as he tried to raise her up to his shoulder, which was perhaps ridiculous, seeing as his arms had the same circumference as plump baby seals.

It occurred to her, as she studied his physical form with her eyes, nervously tapping her toes, Hux shouting some nonsensical advice at Ben to prepare him to catch her, that she’d never once felt this way with Hux, which was silly, so silly. Compare the two and Hux was like a sapling tree next to a mighty oak in how he was built. If one were to ask a stranger who would be more likely to topple beneath her weight, to slip and lose his grip on her, no one would say Ben. But it wasn’t Ben she trusted implicitly. It wasn’t Ben she’d fly toward with extreme grace and speed and no cares in the world. It wasn’t Ben she trusted to catch her, each and every single time.

No time to examine this feeling, as Hux suddenly barked at her to begin the dance, she moved as gracefully as she could through the motions, crossing the distance between her and Ben, so nervous she forgot to be Juliet, and she was just Rose, no loving, graceful arm movements, no soft looks, no romance, just a short girl with gangly limbs trying to be a ballerina. She broke into a sprint, cursing her sloppy form, and did her best to leap as high and sure as she could, but her nerves got the better of her, and she jumped too soon, on the wrong beat, and Ben had to scurry forward in an attempt to catch her.

He did, but only just barely, and Rose threw her arms and legs around his torso with a cry of fear as he latched onto her, stumbling forward a few steps before catching his balance, leaning up and holding her trembling form against his brick-hard chest.

“You okay?” He rumbled softly. Rose felt her eyes fill with tears.

“Rose Tico, what was that?!” Hux quipped. She could hear him stomping toward her, ready to punish.

Rose cowered at the sound of her first name on his lips, just another reminder of their evening of shame. She slowly slid out of Ben’s hold to her feet as the first few tears began to fall, angry at herself for being so sensitive, so soft, and crying like this in front of them all.

“The tempo is off, you moved too quickly, you simply cannot-,” He cut off with an icy fury as he approached.

Tears bubbled harder and hotter out of her eyes and Rey was shouting now, stepping between Rose and Hux, a thin finger jabbing into his chest as she threatened him away with a large gesture.

“Leave her alone! This is stressful and you shouting at her isn’t going to help.”

Hux caught his breath in his throat, his eyes blown wide, and he advanced on Rey, ripe with fury. “And what about Solo?! He nearly dropped her. She could have been harmed, she-,”

“Oh my GOD. It was her mistake, Hux. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rey snorted wrathfully. Ben was reaching for her hand, whispering soothing words of calm. He knew his wife had a fiery temper and she could get out of hand, just as easily as Hux.

“Rey, just leave it.” Ben uttered coolly, his eyes on Rose, who had wrapped her arms around herself and was making her slow and steady way out the door of the studio.

Rey turned to follow, but Ben held her back, gesturing with a slight nod toward Hux, who had already turned and was making his brisk way out the door after her. Rey pressed her lips tightly together and turned to look up at Ben.

“You can’t mean what I think you mean.” She stated sardonically, cocking an eyebrow.

Ben shrugged, watching Hux disappear into the dark gloom of the hallway beyond.

“It’s what happened with you and I.” he murmured softly. Rey hesitated, her lips turning into a dark frown.

“Ugh but he’s-… he’s Hux.” She shivered with disgust and wrapped her arms around Ben’s waist, laying her head on his chest. “He’s so…”

“It’s none of our business.” Ben cut her off with a note of finality but curled his large body around her.

In the hallway, Rose had finally calmed herself somewhat. Her eyes were at least dry, though her shoulders were shaking and she felt cold all over for no apparent reason. She walked down the long hallway in the dark until she reached a window at the far side of the building. She pressed her fingers against the panes and rested her forehead on the cool glass, examining the streets below. Gold, brown, yellow, and bright red leaves were tumbling down the asphalt in the wind, a light mist of rain falling and dampening the world. It was rather soothing and beautiful, and Rose lost herself to its glimmer, shoulders shaking and gooseflesh lining her arms.

Something soft and smooth to the touch, warm from another’s body heat, brushed over her shoulders, and a comforting weight rested along her back. She blinked down and discovered woolen black cloth had been laid over her. It robbed her of cold and filled her with warmth, so she shifted into it, brushing her cheek against the rough fabric, and turned to glance over her shoulder up into Armitage Hux’s face.

He watched her with glowing green eyes reflecting the gray gloom outside. His features were soft, almost vulnerable as he examined her. Rose felt her stomach churning once more in the most delightful of ways as she took him in, drawing his coat closer around herself and turning to face him.

“I’m so sorry I screwed up.” She whispered gently, her voice catching with her insecurities. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I’m just glad that you’re okay.” Hux uttered oh so gently. He still had a mildly frustrated look about his face, and Rose wondered how easy it was for him to dismiss her mistakes like this. “Though… if you do it again, I will not be so forgiving.”

Rose could barely hold back a smile. She couldn’t be sure, but this felt like an admission of sorts, one she thought was rare to come out of rigid dance instructor Armitage Hux.

“I won’t do it again. It… reminded me of my injury, two years back. I was dancing pas de deux to audition for a school, and my partner-,”

“I know.” Hux interrupted, his tone acidic. “The fool dropped you. I saw the footage.”

“You did?” Rose winced. That wasn’t her most flattering dance evidence.

“Google search, Rose Tico.” He replied with just a hint of sarcasm. “I take pride in knowing everything I can about our company’s dancers.”

“I really am sorry.” She impressed upon him again. Rose wasn’t really a perfectionist, but she was very hard on herself, in which there was a difference. If a perfectionist failed, they tried again until it was done right. If a self-doubter failed, they beat themselves up until something different happened. She’d battled such a struggle almost her entire life.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Hux uttered so very softly, as if he were afraid someone other than her may hear him. “Mistakes happen. Do not wallow in them. Fix them.”

What a perfectionist thing to say. Rose smiled.

“Are you ready to come back and finish the session?” Hux asked her quietly. Rose caught him glancing at the scarf on her neck before he averted his eyes, standing with his hands held tight behind his back in that rigid posture of his.

She nodded and moved to slide out of his coat, but Hux stopped her with a light touch to her shoulder.

“Leave it until we get back. I don’t need it.”

They walked together back to studio eight, Rose trying not to burn up too badly within Hux’s coat, which engulfed her, and smelled of smoky leather and hints of some sort of exotic flower. She’d recognized the smell before, though never consciously, and wondered if it were a cologne of his.

They stepped into the room, Hux striding toward Ben and Rey without acknowledging either of them. Rose felt Rey’s eyes on hers, boring into her, and she timidly traipsed over to the side of the room and shucked Armitage’s coat off, folding it the same way she’d seen him do hundreds of times and laying it gently down with great care.

Rey gave Ben a pointed look. Ben cleared his throat.

“Ready to try this again?” He uttered hurriedly. “Rey and I have somewhere to be in an hour.”

The rest of practice went much better. Rose still hesitated when it came to leaping into Ben’s hold, but Hux stayed close by her through the end of the lesson, following her as she moved, giving her direct orders and clapping his bare hands together to help keep her on tempo. At first, his hovering was irritating, but soon she found it to be soothing, his commands drawing on her trust for him. Before the end of the lesson, Ben had caught her multiple times and lifted her up onto his shoulder. The first time Rose almost toppled off with trepidation, sitting on his shoulder was like sitting on a boulder, but as they repeated the moves again and again, they smoothed and improved, much to everyone’s satisfaction.

Practice ended when Ben and Rey insisted that they had to leave, claiming they were attending a family dinner with Ben’s parents. As they all readied to leave in various ways, Hux going to his coat, Rose changing out of her pointe shoes, Ben began to head for the door but Rey lingered, glancing between Rose and Hux. She and the ginger had a relatively stable working relationship, most times, but she didn’t necessarily trust him with anyone else in the company, least of all sweet newbie Rose. It was hard for Ben to drag her out of the room, uttering a quick goodbye to both Rose and Hux, pulling Rey along with her hand engulfed in his.

“It is none of our business.” Ben uttered again to her as they descended the stairs. “Leave them alone.”

“Ben, sweetie.” Rey uttered, her tone exasperated. “I know you barely understand women, but fuck boys like Hux don’t make good companions.”

“Since when have you ever known him to give two shits about a crying dancer?” Ben interjected, just as exasperated. “He gave her his damn coat.”

Rey sulked. “Yeah, that was kinda cute.”

Ben rolled his eyes. Cute wasn’t the word he’d have used, but this was progress.

“Are you sure you’re going to keep dancing Romeo?” She pestered him for the thousandth time. “I’m not jealous or anything but… I kinda wouldn’t mind if you backed out and stayed home with your pregnant wife while she got super fat.”

Ben smirked softly, holding the door open for her as they slipped outside, pulling her closer so their hips bumped, palming the opposite one to him.

“Who else is going to dance Romeo?” He murmured softly. “None of the other male dancers are experienced enough to do those crazy lifts.”

Rey’s eyes popped wide open as a suddenly nefarious idea occurred to her. “Ben!” She slapped his arm and stopped him there on the sidewalk. “We should make Hux do it.”

Ben raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Uh… first you want to protect Rose from him, now you want to thrust her into his arms? I don’t follow.”

“If you’re right about him,” Rey smirked wickedly, her tongue pinched between her teeth. “It’ll drive him absolutely mad.”

“You’re sadistic.” Ben joked affectionately, pulling her into his hold and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I know.”

Back inside studio eight, Rose was packing her bag as slowly as she possibly could, keeping her eyes trained steadily on the floorboards below her thighs. She did not want to leave without saying anything to him, but she didn’t know what to say to him, as this was the first time they’d been alone all day. She tensed as she both felt and heard him approaching her, his long shadow falling over her form on the floor.

She glanced up at him with a soft smile, determined to be cheerful and brave.

“It was a good idea,” She began, zipping her bag shut and rising to her feet. “inviting them. Today’s practice went well.”

Hux didn’t say anything. He just studied her, his gaze intense on hers.

“Should we keep meeting after lessons this week? I don’t mind staying a few hours later. I can bring a granola bar to tide me over between lessons and din-,”

She cut-off as Hux raised his hand toward her, so quick she had no time to react, and felt his fingers wrap gently around her throat, his thumb touching the scarf she wore over the mark he’d given her. She tensed, her breath catching in her throat, head swimming in dizzying swirls as he thumbed the scarf down and brushed over the red and purple contusion.

His touch was bare, not gloved, and so soft, so light, so warm. Her heart pitter-pattered as he stepped closer, his gaze taking on almost a pained look, his mouth crooked in a soft frown. He touched her like it burned him, like it ached, like he held his fingers to an open flame.

“Rose,” he whispered, his voice husky and dry. “If you wear this scarf tomorrow in class, I will personally remove it.”

He could remove it now, if he wanted. She wouldn’t object.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” She managed to say, having quite the difficult time restraining herself. His face was so close, his hair so tempting and soft looking, had he not backed away from her then, she was sure she would have pounced. She didn’t have that much self-control.

“Tomorrow, then.” He murmured lightly, giving her one last look before turning and exiting the room.

Rose waited a few minutes before leaving, not wanting to run into him on her way out. On her way home across the park, she fingered the scarf at her neck, lost in thought with a small smile on her face. She hadn’t intended to wear the scarf to practice tomorrow. It wasn’t part of the accepted uniform. But now, she was quite sure she had to. 


	8. Retombe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Would you ever drop me?" She asked him._   
>  _"Never." He stated without hesitation._   
>  _"I believe you."_
> 
> Hux spends a day trying to cling to his routine, finding himself thwarted at each and every turn by a pretty flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally have Betas and I'm going to cry, they're so perfect! They helped me so quickly, so thoroughly, and were super supportive, and I owe them everything! Thanks to [@Hellyjellybean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/pseuds/Hellyjellybean) and [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26) for your help with this chapter! I owe you coffee! 
> 
> Chapter Title "Retombe" from [this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/) meaning a return back to where the dancer originally started. -sigh- This is in reference to Hux, just so you know. 👀

_Long red hair covers her face. She always wore it down like that. He doesn’t know why. She moves, swaying, turning, her hair tumbling with her. Her body is so graceful, it’s movement so smooth, so precise, but thin and pale, frail, fragile. He inherited that from her. He knows. He wishes he could love it about himself, but he can’t, and she understands. She knows why he cannot._

_Her hands find his face. His cheeks are wet with tears, though he isn’t sure when that happened. She dries them with her hair. She kisses the top of his head. She envelops him in her warm embrace. She smells of summertime and lilies, of hope._

_“Dance with me.”_

He wakes up.

His alarm is going off and Millicent is sitting on his shoulder, curled up into a tight loaf-shaped ball to hide her limbs and tail from the cold. He stares at the ceiling for a long moment, taking seconds, minutes, maybe even hours to chase away the remnant of her memory. It’s been a long time since he’s dreamt of her. He knows, if he doesn’t control it now, the effect this will have on his entire day. The last time he dreamt of her he just stayed home, knowing how fucked he was going to be if he tried to get anything done.

When it feels safe, soul sturdy and secure inside its little box where his emotions and feelings live, never to see the light of day, he gently nudges Millicent to the side and rolls out of bed, slapping the alarm clock on his bedside table to turn off the incessant ringing. The little red digital numbers read four fifteen.

He changes quickly into athletic gear and leaves Millicent in the bed behind him, snuggled into the warmth his body left on the mattress, hitting the streets of the city for his morning run. He does not listen to music. He listens to the sound of the city, the cars, the birds, the bustling thrum of business and life and people, the barking of dogs and hissing of cats, the cries of joy and anguish. These sounds drown him in a miasma of cushioning feeling. He enjoys the aesthetic of the busy city. It keeps his anxieties at bay.

When he is finished, he goes home and showers. He makes a breakfast of one piece of whole wheat toast and two poached eggs. He feeds Millicent and they eat at the same time; he sits on one of the barstools beside the kitchen island, she on the floor. When he finishes, he dutifully washes both he and Millicent’s plates by hand and puts them away, making sure the kitchen is spotless, then gets the electric kettle going for some tea. He brews whichever kind he feels like for the day, then carries it off to the bathroom to finish preparing.

Routine is important to Armitage Hux. If everything goes according to plan, it’s a very good day. He eats the same breakfast every day, completes the same tasks, and does it all at relatively the same time. He even accounts for lost time, building in buffers to his schedule, for times that traffic is bad between his condo and the studio, or when Millicent decides to be picky and not eat what he gives her, or when he runs longer and harder to try and beat his anxieties into the concrete. Armitage Hux tries not to do anything spontaneous or extraordinary, not because he wouldn’t like to, but because surprises have not been kind to him. From his point of view, a surprise or lack of structure and organization can be just as deadly as being caught naked in a snowstorm. He lives this way to protect himself, packing cushion after cushion around his wounded, icy heart.

He arrives at the studio at five forty-five am. No one is there, and that is just how he likes it. He makes his way up the stairs, heading toward studio five as is his habitual behavior. However, as he strides into the room, collar turned up against the back of his neck of his black greatcoat, he freezes.

That bench, right there, that’s where he…

“Bloody hell,” he swears under his breath, feeling a stirring of warmth between his legs, the tips of his ears burning.

Flashes of memory assault him: the sweet sigh of his name breathed out so gently, the taste of her cum, the feel of her skin against his lips, her soft ass grinding his lap, the way she trembled at his touch and –

He cuts himself off, striding with purpose across the room and turning to gaze out of the full windows into the dark outside. He can see streetlights and shadows, but nothing more. Much more pronounced is his reflection in the lit-up studio room. The shock of his bright red hair brings back different memories, these much more unwelcome than the first.

“ _Dance with me.”_

He doesn’t want to. But how can he resist a request from the only woman he’s ever loved?

He removes his coat slowly, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with himself in either the window or the mirror. He lays the coat in the corner and walks to the bar, doing a minimal amount of stretches. He is done in ten minutes. His jaw clenched tight, he turns and makes his way to the soundboard in the corner of the room and plugs in his phone. He turns on the song, her favorite, ignoring all the alarm bells ringing in his head. Today he decides to revel in the pain. It’s been far too long.

The violin weeps around him and he joins it, his limbs moving slowly to the melancholy beat, costive but also tremulous and careful. He feels the music inside of him, ripping at his flesh, tearing his organs to pieces, gnawing at the sinews and tendons in each of his limbs, and he moves with power. Faster, faster he turns and leaps, he sprints, galloping across the room, arms wide, as if outrunning a monster. He escapes his feelings with each revolution, each turn about the room, his legs scissoring through the air as he hammers his body into the void, stretched out into the universe, painting his agony with motion and movement.

He is lost, amid a stormy sea, so lost he does not hear the little footsteps in the hall. He is undone from within, every pain, every heartache taking root deep in his belly and extending out of him, his face contorting now with the misery of his soul-crushing anguish. He does not see her watching, does not even feel her presence, holding her breath, hands folded as if she has entered a house of prayer.

She is reverent as she watches him.

The song ends and he is trembling, a damp hand covering his eyes, his face upturned toward the ceiling as if he could see through to the sky, to the stars beyond, to a place others hope loved ones could be when they have passed over. His limbs falter and he stumbles, body slick with sweat. He has danced himself into oblivion.

“Armitage!”

There is concern for him in her voice as she rushes forward, appearing from nowhere.

He hisses as she reaches for him, drawing himself immediately back up into his shell: spine rod straight, face expressionless, a mask of fury and control, arms clenched behind his back.

“What are you doing here?” he spits at her. She has no right to witness him falling apart. He feels seen. Exposed.

She winces. He did not mean to sound so cruel, but what’s done is done.

“I-…” She hesitates, seeming to realize what room they are in. He can tell, because her cheeks light up with the most charming little blush. She eyes the bench. “I came early to warm-up.”

“I see.”

Let her warm-up then. He turns and walks briskly over to his phone to cut off the music that had changed to another track automatically.

She follows him.

“You dance beautifully,” she offers breathlessly.

Hux stills, staring down at the phone in his hand. The name of the song on the app blurs in his sight.

“I mean it. I’ve never seen such magnificent moves. I could… I could watch you for hours.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grits out between clenched teeth, unplugging the phone with a little more force than necessary. He spins on his heel and she is there, so close to him. Why is she so close?

She is gazing up at him like he hung the moon. No one has ever looked at him like that, and it spooks him. He feels uneasy and out of control; it disturbs him. He side steps her presence and moves around her, heading for his coat. He needs to leave.

“Why are you an instructor?” She calls after him. “Why… if you dance like that, why are you not a dancer?”

He pauses and turns, piercing her with his eyes. He takes her form in for the first time that day: in the uniform as usual, her hair done up in two little buns, her pretty brown eyes wide and sweet looking. She has one hand at her side, the other is curled up by her throat. She looks at him with curiosity, sympathy. It’s the sympathy he hates. She knows he is tormented, and it irritates him. Armitage does not like to show weakness.

“That is my business,” he utters harshly. “You will do well to remember, Miss Tico, that as an instructor I am due respect and courtesy. You will cease asking me such ridiculous questions and go to your warm-ups.”

His snapping into boss-mode seems to have done the trick. Her expression changes immediately. She stiffens, swallows thickly, and lowers her hand, crossing the room to pass him. It is when she does this, however, that he notices she is wearing that damnable scarf again, when he explicitly told her not to. It is all he can do to keep from snatching it off her immediately.

But he does not. Because he is angry, and he knows when he is angry, he will be too rough, too cruel, too harsh. He lets her walk past him, noting her defiant posture: chin pointed high into the air, arms swinging carelessly, eyes averted as she deliberately brushes past him, their clothing rustling, making her stubborn yet quick way toward the door. She does not say a single word to him as she leaves.

Hux is overcome with the strong desire to scream expletives, but he does not. He clenches his fists and picks up his coat, pulls it over his arms, and leaves the studio entirely.

Rose stood in studio eight, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her toes impatiently. Her tutorial was supposed to start five minutes ago and Hux was nowhere to be found. Five minutes wasn’t much for someone to be late, but she had already grown accustomed to his punctuality. He was never late. Not ever.

Their scene from the morning played over and over in her head, and each time she became more furious. She was still confused over their exchange. Why had he been so offended that she’d referred to his dancing as beautiful? Why had he gotten so angry when she’d suggested he be a dancer rather than an instructor?

She could remember the look in his eyes: disgust, irritation, terror. The last one was what confused her the most. She did not like the feeling the look gave her. Why would he have any reason to feel terrified of her? It disconcerted her and made her feel sick to her stomach.

“Perhaps he isn’t coming,” Finn, standing next to her and stretching up and down, in and out of plie, said bitterly. “Maybe he’s sick.”

“He’s not sick. I saw him this morning.” Rose chewed the inside of her cheek and glanced at the clock again. Almost ten minutes late now.

“Maybe he has food poisoning,” Finn snickered, sounding like he enjoyed the idea of a sick and tormented Hux bent over a toilet.

“Don’t sound so cheerful about it,” Rose chastised him. It bothered her how Finn, and everyone else for that matter, talked about Hux.

Definitely ten minutes late now.

“I’m sorry, Rose,” Finn chuckled softly, rising to his full height and scratching the top of his head, angling his chin a little to the right as if he were confused about something. “It’s just how we all feel about him. I wouldn’t really want him to die or anything.”

“That’s comforting to know,” Rose laughed bitterly, but she gave him a soft smile anyway. She knew Finn didn’t mean to be cruel, or at least she hoped he didn’t. 

He strode toward her and extended his hand.

“Would you like to practice before he gets here?”

Rose had been about to accept Finn’s hand and his offer, when a loud eruption echoed from within the hallway. Someone was shouting at the top of their lungs. Finn dropped his hand and glanced between Rose and the hallway, then moved toward the door. Rose followed.

In the hall, Ben and Armitage were squaring one another down, for lack of any better terminology. Beefy Ben Solo had his large hands clenched into fists, and he was trembling from head to toe, looking as if he might haul off and sock Hux in the jaw. Armitage, on the other hand, was ever ramrod straight and calm, his arms clasped behind his back, though his face was turned slightly away from Ben as if terrified he was going to be hit. His face reflected none of that terror, however, merely loathing and contempt.

“Why is it, Armitage,” Ben uttered his name with mild spite. “that you can’t just have a conversation like a normal human being?”

“I told you,” Hux’s words pierced the air like shards of ice. “I refuse to dance with this company. I am an instructor. I will not dance. You are the one being unreasonable-,”

“My wife is pregnant,” Ben snarled back, advancing on him. Hux flinched, but only slightly, and recovered quickly from the motion, drawing in a sharp breath through his nose and straightening quickly, determined not to cower.

Dancers were exiting from their studios, drawn by the sound of the fight. The hallway was quickly becoming crowded. 

“I fail to see how that is my fault. You are the one-,”

“If you say that again, Hux, I swear to god-,”

“I am not-,”

“Ben!” A voice snapped over all others in the hallway. Everyone stopped and turned as Leia marched swiftly toward them all, approaching the pair with her jaw clenched in consternation.

“Get back to practice!” She commanded all the dancers, snapping at their instructors. They all scurried to obey her, rushing inside. Only Finn and Rose were left standing in the hallway, their instructor involved in the bustle of issues. But one look from Leia was enough to change their minds, and both Finn and Rose hurried into their studio to wait for further instructions.

“What the hell was that about?” Rose mused out loud, wrapping her arms around her waist. She’d never seen Hux look so put-out.

“Ben and Hux don’t have the best relationship. They barely tolerate one another. You just got to see one of the bad days,” Finn explained, his tone implying this was your very basic, run-of-the-mill sort of day.

Rose thought back to Armitage’s dance. It really had been so beautiful. It had taken her breath away. But it seemed to her that, from the very moment he’d noticed her watching him, his demeanor had changed entirely. He seemed so much more like the Hux she’d danced for months ago when she’d first come to the company, not like the Hux she’d gotten to know. She couldn’t help but obsess over the differences, she began to go over in her mind every possible clue she had access to which could explain why he was behaving so strangely. He’d said in the hallway that he refused to dance. Was this all about his dancing?

“Finn,” Rose began, following him to the warm-up bar. “Have you ever seen Hux dance?”

“Nope,” Finn’s lips made a funny sound on the end of the ‘p’ in the word. “I’ve only ever seen him pose the choreography for us. He never dances.”

“He danced with me,” Rose murmured softly, to herself, chewing her bottom lip in thought.

“What?” Finn paused mid-stretch and glanced at her. “He did?”

“Well,” Rose shrugged, joining him at the bar and stretching one leg high up into the air. She didn’t need to warm-up, she just wanted something to do. “Yeah. When I got the part for Juliet, he helped me practice my moves. It was mostly lifts, so I guess he wasn’t really… dancing? But he sort of did, to assist me.”

Finn laughed incredulously. “Okay. And Santa Claus is real.”

“I’m not lying!” Rose insisted, but dropped her voice abruptly as Leia, Ben, and Armitage entered the room.

Leia gestured for Finn and Rose to join her at the center.

“Finn,” She began, resting a hand on his shoulder and drawing him close to her as he approached, then turned to whisper something quietly in his ear. He listened, his eyes widening, and he turned to look at Rose, examining her thoughtfully, looking her over head to toe.

“What’s going on?” Rose murmured, suddenly feeling quite disconcerted, as she came to stand near Ben’s elbow.

“I’m not dancing Romeo anymore.” Ben uttered quietly. Next to him, Hux inhaled sharply through his nose and shifted, his head turning sharply away.

“Why not? I’m sorry if I’m not the best partner, I really-,” Rose scrambled to explain herself, feeling like their sloppy lessons the day before had personally offended Ben Solo and driven him away.

“Rose, it’s not you!” Ben insisted, holding out his palms in a placating manner. “It’s just… Rey. I want to be with her through this process. I don’t really have the time to dance this role. I’d been considering it since she dropped out. Please don’t take this personally.”

Rose nodded, accepting the logical definition of things, but it was hard for her not to feel a little bit responsible. It felt like, ever since she’d been cast as Juliet, nothing had gone right, and everything had gone so very wrong.

“So… who is going to dance Romeo?”

“I asked Hux to, but he-,”

“Solo.” Hux growled warningly.

Rose had felt a blooming excitement the moment that name had left Ben’s lips, but Hux’s reaction brought her sinking right back down, like a lead balloon. She studied him, every bit of his posture screaming “I hate people, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me,” and wondered again what had happened to change him into this hostile person. She’d never once seen him so on edge.

“Would it be so bad?” She whispered gently. “Dancing with me?”

Like warm breath on an icicle, her words influenced him. He visibly shuddered, changed for just a moment, the barest fraction of a second, and he looked at her with some raw, and vulnerable expression. He reminded her, ever so briefly, of a child. In a fraction of the time it took to show, the expression was gone, and he ignored her, turning to make his brisk way over to the sound equipment in the corner.

“Okay.” Leia suddenly spoke up from her conversation with Finn. “Here’s the deal. We are going to salvage this show, as soon as my dancer’s stop acting like chickens without any heads. Finn is going to try the part of Romeo today. If he feels comfortable, he’ll take it.”

Finn’s eyes met Rose’s, his expression soft and warm, and Rose tried to meet it with the same exuberance, the same joy. Dancing with Finn was fine, it could work. She’d seen him practice and he was good, powerful, well-marked. And they suited one another more, as lower dancers in the company their skill levels would be more matched, or so she assumed.

“Rose, does that work for you?” Finn inquired of her.

Rose couldn’t help it; she glanced at the straight, broad back of Armitage as he ignored them all, fiddling with the sound equipment.

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Dancing with Finn was infinitely different. He was closer to Rose in height than Hux or Ben, and no matter how she tried, it felt strange to her when she was on pointe and in his hold. Her head came close to his with the extra foot of height, and it didn’t feel quite right to her. He was a good partner, though, and supported her easily and well in all the turns and shifts they performed together. The first hour or two they worked only on the most basic choreography, no lifts. Leia stayed with them, as well as Ben and Armitage. With three experienced dancers watching them, the pressure was on, and more than a few times Finn cracked tension-relieving jokes to her under his breath as he helped her turn on point, promenaded around the room, or took her hands or waist in his. Rose would try not to laugh, but it’d get the better of her.

Once or twice, when Finn made her laugh like this, she’d catch Armitage’s eye. He seemed positively nauseous, his nostrils flared and eyebrows narrowed, mouth set in a quirky grimace, his gloved hands clasped so tightly behind his back it looked like his arms might go numb and fall off from the tension. He said nothing, however, merely watched, dutifully present for the tutorial, but he had taken a backseat. Leia was running this session.

“We’re going to try the lifts now,” Leia told them as they finished their most recent set. “Finn, how are you feeling?”

Finn pressed his lips together, a light sheen of perspiration on his brow, and nodded. “I think I’m good. Where do you want me?”

Leia took him by the wrist and pulled him across the room, telling him how to stand and narrating for him what was going to happen. She showed him, in big gestures, the exact prowess of the move, explaining how Rose was going to come toward him, where he should hold her and how he should hoist her up, to be safest.

“Rose!” She called, turning to look for her, and Rose dutifully went.

“Here,” Leia took Finn’s hands and placed them around Rose’s waist. Rose lifted her arms to allow him room. “Grasp her here. Make certain you have a firm grip. She’s going to dance toward you, we’ll do it slow the first few times, and from this position you lift her. She’ll turn-,”

Leia broke off then, glancing at both of the men who, so far in this session, had been uselessly sulking around while she had instructed. It was part of her punishment, however, forcing them both to remain here with her and the dancers. They needed to learn not to bicker like school children.

“One of you get over here,” Leia snorted. Ben and Armitage both looked at one another, as if playing chicken to see who would cave first. Impatient, Leia snapped “If you want to keep your jobs. Right now.”

Armitage responded to that, ever dutiful. He strode forward, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight. He stood beside Leia.

“Show Finn how to lift and turn her,” Leia urged him. “Just pick her up.”

Rose, feeling a bit like a doll on display, having stood there for quite a bit of time now with her arms held out to the side, shivered at the warm memory of his gloved hands on her waist. It felt so familiar, so meant to be, and as he lifted her, aided by a little push off from her pointed toes, and turned her onto his shoulder with such ease, she felt no fear, but posed upon him gracefully, his hands on her legs, holding her steady.

“See how he turns her at the last moment? Think you can do that?” Leia was asking Finn.

As they talked through the move, Hux lifted Rose off his shoulder and turned her, letting her slide back down to her feet. Their eyes met, her hands on his chest, his hands on her hips, something swelling, unspoken between them. Then it was gone, and he stepped away from her, back to his position on the sidelines.

Rose inhaled a deep breath and turned back toward Finn.

“You ready to try it?” Leia was asking him.

“Can I… Can I try it just standing here first?” Finn asked, his voice betraying a bit of nervousness.

“Of course.” Leia grabbed Rose by the wrist and pulled her closer.

For the next hour, Rose was nothing but a practice doll, her only job to keep her limbs out of the way, posing prettily, and be as patient as possible for Finn who, bless his poor soul, had never done lifts of this complicated variety before. When he first put his hands on her and lifted her, he failed, sending Rose careening onto her stomach over his shoulder, flailing off to the side, or falling back. Leia never left either of them, and always corrected him, catching her with a steady hand while coaching Finn back through the motions.

Beside them, captives to this lesson, were Armitage and Ben. Ben was amused, and could be heard chuckling softly now and then as he watched the struggle, to which Leia would respond by barking at him to help.

Armitage, however, was still seething, and the longer the lesson went on, the more red his face became, the tighter his gloved hands clenched, the more the nerves in his face twitched with irritation.

Once, Finn almost dropped Rose on her head, catching her just in time by wrapping his arms tight around her middle, leaving her hanging upside down, head inches away from the floor. To this, Armitage reacted with an audible growl, which thankfully no one noticed as all the others were quickly absorbed in keeping Rose from falling to a short and painful injury.

“Maybe it’s time for a break,” Leia uttered then, and Finn nodded, looking exhausted, mentally stretched, and embarrassed. 

“Everyone, get some water.”

Rose shifted to her feet, wrapping trembling arms around her middle, and wandered over to her bag on the side of the room. Gulping down water, she massaged a point on her neck that was giving her trouble, feeling the forgotten fabric of the scarf she’d put on that morning. The memory of its presence caused her to turn, seeking out Armitage’s form in the room, and she found him, standing alone along one wall, watching her.

As their eyes met, she played a little with the bow, fingering the satiny fabric, delighting in the way his posture changed in subtle ways, fists unclenched, leaning forward, eyes narrowed. He did not seem angry anymore, his expression hollow and hungry, aching.

“How are you doing?”

Rose jumped as Finn approached her, shocked out of her thoughts, and dropped her hand, glancing up into Finn’s face with a shaky laugh.

“Ah… it’s good. I’m fine. You?”

“I’m worried I’m going to drop you. Are you sure you’re okay?” His face looked pained, worried.

Rose extended a hand and laid it on his forearm in a comforting gesture. “Finn, I trust you. Don’t worry.”

She wasn’t sure it was exactly true, but as a friend it was the best thing she could say in that moment. Finn smiled at her and laid his hand over hers. Leia called them back then, and Finn held on to her hand, guiding her over to the middle of the room to join Leia. Rose, guided by some primal instinct, sought Armitage’s gaze, feeling slightly giddy to notice him glaring at her point of contact with Finn. She wasn’t trying to make him jealous, really, but seeing that he was didn’t upset her. In fact she found it sort of satisfying. It was all his fault anyway. He could have danced with her, but he was being stubborn and sullen.

“Ready to try it again?” Leia inquired.

They worked for another hour. Eventually, Finn managed to lift her seamlessly, easily, which Rose was thankful for. This was the first ballet class she’d ever spent merely as a sack of potatoes to be lifted and man-handled, and she was becoming quite bored. When Finn had done the lift five times successfully, Leia suggested they try it in full choreography at half tempo, for safety purposes.

Rose wasn’t so sure that Finn would be able to handle it. He’d been lifting her almost nonstop for the past few hours, his arms were bound to be tired and sore. But Leia’s face was set in grim determination. This company was her baby, this show her protégé, and her second lead role was vacant and empty. This wasn’t how shows were supposed to go. They could lose serious money in ticket sales, having to postpone the show even one more time. They had to get this right. They had to cast Romeo. If they didn’t, all was lost.

So she made them do it. Hux prepared the music while Leia coached Finn down out of his head, walking him through the moves again. Rose took her place across the room, ready and eager to finally do some more dancing.

“Begin!”

Leia’s voice cut through the air. Hux clicked on the music. Rose closed her eyes and breathed deep, raising up onto her toes, balancing her arms, then jumped into the music, careful to obey the slower tempo of the song. She turned, leapt, followed the curve of the room, rounding closer and closer to Finn, and sprinted toward him, toes hitting the ground on each beat of the song. He prepared to catch her, arms spread wide for her, and she ignored the last little cry of fear in her heart, the little voice that told her she couldn’t trust him really, he’d drop her, he’d let her down, and hurled herself through the air into his waiting arms. His hands caught her waist, he drew her close and spun, moving to lift her to his shoulder, and his arms gave out.

Rose fell fast to the floor, her leg curling up underneath her awkwardly. She felt it twist beneath her weight as she hit the ground, hard, ankle turned at a funny angle under her ass. Several things happened at once: her ankle, stressed at the joint, rang through with a numb yet fiery pain, causing her to cry out and fall forward toward Finn’s feet, trembling, Finn yelled an expletive and Leia cried out in shock. Seconds later, Rose was bent forward on the floor, banging a fist into the hardwood, trying to choke back a sob. Finn reached for her, but he was shoved aside roughly by Armitage, who fell quickly to Rose’s side.

“Tico,” He uttered quietly, taking her shoulders in his gloved palms, pulling her up toward him. “Tico, where does it hurt?”

“My… my ankle.” Rose grit out, allowing him to lift her, her cheeks stained with tears.

Leia, Ben, and Finn watched on, stunned, as Armitage gently helped her shift on the floor, turning her leg back the way it should go, his hands delicately cradling her calf.

“This leg?” He inquired.

Rose grimaced and nodded, sniffling and wincing with pain as he raised her foot, untying her pointe shoe with practiced speed and agility, tossing it away. He removed a glove, without a second thought, and ran his palm over her ankle and foot, feeling through the tights for swelling.

“She needs to go to the infirmary.” Hux uttered softly, his voice deadly but delicate, full of quiet focused fury. No one argued with him as he stood, replaced his glove, then knelt and scooped Rose easily up into his arms.

“Rose,” Finn interjected, following Hux as he carried her toward the door. “Rose, I’m so sorry! I’m really… really sorry.”

Rose reached for him, beginning to forgive him, to say it’s okay, but Hux turned her out of his eyesight, striding more quickly and purposefully from the room, leaving Leia and Finn and Ben in his wake. She peered up at him, barely registering his expression, her head foggy with pain, and leaned in against his chest as he carried her down the hall. He smelled wonderful, and Rose focused on the pleasant feelings she associated with the scent, using them to distract her from the throbbing in her ankle.

“He’s a bloody fool,” Hux hissed out of nowhere as he turned up the stairs, bypassing the elevator.

Rose shook her head. “He was tired. We should have taken another break.”

“I cannot believe he dropped you,” Hux seemed like he was speaking more to himself than to her, muttering now, quite distractedly. “He should be fired.”

Rose couldn’t help the ghost of a smile that crossed her lips. She turned, instead, inhaling a deep breath of him, and touched two fingers to the lapel of his coat.

“You can’t fire him for that.”

“I can and I will,” Hux fumed. They were nearing the doctor’s office now. Rose’s ankle gave another strong throb of pain. “I will make his life a miserable, wretched mess.”

Empty words, Rose hoped, spoken from a place of envy and wrath. But she still didn’t know him very well, so she couldn’t be sure. Just when she’d thought she was getting to know him, he’d shoved her away that very morning, denied her access to parts of him he didn’t want her to see. Perhaps he really could be as cruel as he seemed.

When he carried her into the doctor’s office, Hux didn’t even speak to the nurse practitioner in the front. He ignored her questions and requests for their needs and intentions, instead bustled down the examination hallway and burst into one of the exam rooms, settling Rose down on the exam table, making sure she was comfortable, then turned to the nurse who had followed them.

“She injured her ankle. Get Doctor Threepio immediately,” he ordered her.

The nurse gave him a dirty look but left the room to presumably do as he asked.

Some time passed, Rose’s ankle throbbing on it’s propped up place on the table. She looked at it, trying to discern if it was swelling too horribly, then glanced up at Hux, a thought occurring to her.

“Mr. Hux…” She began, by way of getting his attention.

He glanced toward her, mildly surprised at the sound of that formal name.

“Would you have dropped me?” She ventured, leaning back on her elbows on the exam table, meeting his cold gaze with a warm look of her own. “If you were Romeo… would you have dropped me?”

“Never.” He stated without hesitation.

“I believe you.” She uttered quietly.

They stared at one another. Hux felt like he could barely breathe. This woman was insufferable but also very pretty and so temptingly delicate; she was ruining his life.

“I-… I can’t dance-,”

He cut off as Doctor Threepio came into the room then, standing at attention, hands behind his back. The doctor gave Rose a pleasant greeting, then pointedly tried to usher Hux out of the exam room, but he stubbornly stood rooted to the spot, refusing to leave.

“It’s okay.” Rose half-laughed, sitting up on the exam table. “He can stay.”

Her ankle was sprained, not broken. Both she and Hux let out a large sigh of relief, collectively, as Doctor Threepio informed them of this. He wrapped it for her, ordered her two days of bed rest, prescribed ice and ibuprofen, and that was that.

Hux tried to carry her out but Rose insisted on walking. He insisted once more he carry her, so they compromised. She wrapped an arm around his waist, he wrapped both around her, and awkwardly they hobbled out of the room. After five steps of her limping strangely next to him, too short to walk with him like that without reinjuring her ankle, she gave in and allowed him to carry her, her cheeks flushing a soft pink as he lifted her into his arms without hesitation, cradling her between her knees and on her back.

“So stubborn.” He muttered as he carried her out of the office and back down the stairs.

“Yes, you are,” Rose laughed softly.

He rolled his eyes.

Dance class had ended by the time they made it downstairs, though Leia was still waiting for them in studio eight. As they entered the room, Hux helped Rose down to her feet beside her bag, and Leia approached them, her expression soft yet stern.

“Are you okay, Rose?” She asked softly. Priorities first.

“I’m fine!” Rose smiled warmly. The pain was still present, but the shock had long worn off, and hearing good news from the doctor had settled her opinion on the matter. “It’s just a sprain.”

Leia looked visibly relieved. She smiled and nodded, clasping her hands before her. “Good. You will still be able to dance, too.”

“In two days time.” Hux cut in insistently. “Doctor’s orders.”

Leia nodded distractedly, seeming ashamed of her overeager nature. “Of course. She’ll have her two days to rest.”

Rose smiled cheerfully, reaching for her converse in her bag.

“Do you need any help back to the dorms?” Leia asked.

“I’ll assist her.” Hux insisted.. Leia gave him a strange look but nodded.

“Okay, then. Thank you both for your work today. I’ll see you later.”

“Goodbye!” Rose called to her as Leia made her way out the door. She turned as Hux moved too, thinking him leaving as well, but he made his way over to her discarded pointe shoe and picked it up, bringing it over and handing it to her with a raised brow.

“Don’t put those shoes on. You’re not walking out of here.”

Rose groaned, rolling her eyes, but stuffed her converse back into her bag, removing her second pointe shoe and shoving it into the bag with the other.

Much to Rose’s mortification and eternal horror, as well as secret enjoyment, Hux did carry her home, all the way from the studio to the dorms, never once seeming like it annoyed or bothered him as he made his way across the park in the falling twilight. He lowered her only once to punch in the code for the dorms, the same as the code for the studio, then lifted her again and followed her directions up to her room.

They passed the dorm dining room on their way, bustling full of dancers hungry from a day of dancing. Rose assumed that’s where Kaydel was, as she was missing from their room when they arrived. Hux helped her to her bed then rose upward, glancing around the room. He took in the photos of her family, pictures of Paige and Jannah making silly faces, her parents looking sweet and old and innocent, a photo of Paige and Rose clutching one another, Paige’s mouth on her cheek like she wanted to eat her face she loved her so much. He noted the pictures of puffins, the navy-blue bedspread with little gray polka dots, the little row of succulent plants on the windowsill by the desk. Somehow, all of this fit her personality, and he was not surprised in the least.

“Do you need anything before I leave?” He asked, his voice quiet in the hush of the room.

Rose just wanted to shower and lay in bed for ages, so she shook her head. “I think I’m okay. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

His cheeks grew a little pink. He shook his head. Silence suspended between them and Hux almost turned to leave, when he noticed that little pink scarf again, the infuriating thing. He studied her, examining her face for any hint of pain, then strode across the room and sat beside her on the bed. She barely had time to register surprise before he’d taken both her shoulders in his palms and shoved her back into the mattress, pinning her beneath his hold, though he was careful to avoid bumping into her ankle with his own.

Rose gazed up at him, eyes round and soft, face flushed with shock as he leaned down over her. His angular nose brushed hers, his breath hit her cheek, and her heart sped up into overdrive as she felt his gloved fingers at her throat, caressing the scarf.

“I told you not to wear this.”

“You did.” She couldn’t breathe.

“And yet you wore it.”

Rose pressed her lips into a thin line. She wasn’t sorry. She wouldn’t say she was sorry.

“No words for your disobedience?”

Rose slowly shook her head, never once tearing her eyes from his.

“Very well.”

The fabric loosened from her neck as he pulled on one of the little ties, excruciatingly slow. In the absence of it, her throat felt suddenly cool, but was covered once more with a scorching heat the temperature of a billion suns as Hux leaned over her and pressed his mouth to the already fading mark he had given her. Her head spun in circles as he bit down gently, following with soft strokes of his tongue and little suckles from his plush mouth. She whined quietly, grabbing the lapels of his coat in her fists, pulling him closer. His scent was everywhere, smoky leather and a hint of tobacco and jasmine flowers coated in spring dew. She wanted to trap him there, ensnare him with her body, roll him over onto her mattress and keep him there forever with her. But he pulled away so quickly, gently disentangling himself from her grip, his eyes wild with lustful fire as he sat up and gave her a smug look.

Rose’s neck stung from his kiss, damp and chilled by the air around it, tingling wonderfully. She watched as he raised her scarf to his lips, kissed it, inhaled it, then stuffed it into the pocket of his coat.

“Get some rest, Rose. I’ll see you in two days.”

Then he was gone, the door of her dorm room closing behind his tall figure.

Rose was unsure how he expected her to rest after that. But later, after an awkward shower on one foot, gazing at the freshly renewed mark on her neck in the mirror with no shame, Rose called her favorite person in the world and recounted to Paige all the events of the day she could tell her with any bit of safety. She fell asleep like that, listening to Paige read from a psychology textbook, her thoughts swimming with ginger hair and his wonderful dance moves, the promises of the future hopeful in her heart.


	9. Piqué

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I do not want to dance this part with you,” the words came out careful and slow._   
>  _“Why not?” Rose was instantly defensive. “Why can’t-,”_   
>  _“But I’ll do it. I will dance with you.”_
> 
> Rose recovers from her injury, but there are some injuries that run much deeper and take much longer to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many people to thank for this chapter. It's a doozy, and with the power of both of these characters, I could not have done this alone. I love this fic so much, but I love sharing it even more with all of you. Thank you for reading and supporting me. You are all so beautiful and I love this fandom. 
> 
> Thanks to [ @ElfMaidenOfLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight) for helping me muse through Hux/Rose headcanons. 🌹 An ENORMOUS thank you to[@HellyJellyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/pseuds/Hellyjellybean) and [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26) for being amazing Betas, so fast and so fabulous! 🌹 They also both made beautiful mood boards for this fic. Find them below! TT_TT So perfect. Finally, thanks to [@KarmaDash_is_ShippingTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarmaDash_is_ShippingTrash/pseuds/KarmaDash_is_ShippingTrash) for creating such an amazing playlist that is refreshing to write to. 🌹[ Find it here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6JHvFnUxzZkkbbmjo4XDkz?si=xNWHKJEORVGhYlP-aa_ToQ)
> 
> Finally, there are two particular songs that ran through my mind while writing this chapter, and I have listened to them so much that I hear them in my sleep. If you like music that reflects fiction, here they are for you: [the happy song expressing Rose's delight and their complicated feelings](https://open.spotify.com/track/2hnxrRNzF74mdDzpQZQukQ?si=kNWSP6_WS2WLqLVoRjX8zg) and [the angsty song representing Hux's hesitation and their longing to grow closer](https://open.spotify.com/track/43zdsphuZLzwA9k4DJhU0I?si=6LGGdaDDRDC3L0ZO1PKb0A).
> 
> Chapter title Piqué from [this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/) which means "pricking": a term used to describe the manner in which a ballerina changes moves. In this context, imagine the pricking of a finger on the thorn of a rose... 🌹
> 
> Rant: AO3 always fucks up my paragraph indentations and it annoys me. If you know how to fix this, let this nutty perfectionist know, please?!

One would think that a dancer in a ballet company would appreciate a two-day break. One would think said ballerina would relax, watch some television, eat their favorite snacks, talk on the phone with all their friends. But Rose was not having any fun at all. In fact, Rose was going stir crazy. 

The first morning, she had to wake up and watch Kaydel get ready for ballet class without her, running about like her hair was on fire, late as usual. Rose studied her from her position on the bed, her wrapped foot propped up on a pillow on the mattress, feeling glum. Had she been fit to dance, she would already have been in the studio, warming up, maybe even in a lesson with Hux.

It didn’t seem fair to Rose that she couldn’t dance. She briefly considered going anyway and doing what she could do, arm movements mostly, and keen observation. But she wasn’t an idiot and she knew that the quickest way to seriously complicate a light injury was to move around on it. So, she remained bed ridden despite her frustration.

At lunch time that first day, Finn came back from the studio and brought her a sandwich. It was touching, and she allowed him to sit with her on her bed as they ate together. Finn recounted everything about the company that she had missed that day. He also apologized a million more times. Rose finally had to tell him to shut up and whacked him over the head with a pillow, just to get through to him. Throughout the rest of lunch, she pondered her prior belief that either of them could have been interested in one another romantically. He felt so much more like a brother to her now. She’d never had a close guy friend. It was nice. 

At some point in their conversation, Finn brought up Poe. He danced around saying anything of meaning, but his warm brown eyes lit up with joy, crinkling in the corners, and his face had this reserved quality to it, a wholesome happiness. Rose fell down a rabbit hole of thought again, as she wondered how she looked when she spoke or thought about a certain ginger dance instructor. She pictured him in her mind, delightful ripples of joy pulsating from her center as she pictured his cool green eyes, his serious expression, the ways he moved in and out of the mask he liked to hide behind, from freely dancing, open and expressive, to rigid and tightly wound again. 

“Earth to Rose.” Finn murmured, waving his hand in front of her face.

Rose blinked at him and cleared her throat, straightening in her spot on the bed, her cheeks warm. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

Rose wished she had a handheld mirror so she could check her expression. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

When Finn left, the boredom returned. Rose tried reading a book of poetry focusing on plants and summer, but she quickly fell asleep. She tried watching re-runs of her favorite K-drama on Netflix, but fell asleep once more. Whenever she had to hobble to the bathroom, she’d gaze longingly out the window of the dorm and wonder what was happening in the studio. She hated missing out on the action. She loved dance so much.

Around four pm, she received a text from Finn asking if she needed him to bring her dinner. She thanked him for the effort and told him no, that Kaydel would be back and had promised to bring food for them from the dorm kitchen downstairs.

Two hours later, she received another text.

**How are you feeling?**

Rose stared at her cell phone, wondering if she was reading this right. The contact name at the top read “The Devil”, a name she had put in for Hux when he’d first given her his number for tutorial exchanges. In all this time, he had never once sent a personal text message, only time and place notifications for practices. The one time she’d tried to be personable, thanking him for teaching her and reminding him to bring an umbrella because it was going to rain, he left her on read and ignored her outright.

She touched the new mark on her neck, hidden beneath a carefully placed band aid. She burned from head to toe, butterflies not just fluttering, but holding an enthusiastic rave, within the confines of her stomach.

She didn’t want to hope for too much, but could they really be doing this now? For real?

Before she could let nerves get the better of her, she texted him back.

**It doesn’t hurt now unless I put weight on it. I’m just bored out of my mind!!**

Rose stared at the screen, waiting for the little “…” icon to indicate he had seen and was replying. She decided that, if he replied to her text and did not chastise her, then maybe he was into her. If not, there was no reason to read into anything.

The text writing icon appeared and hovered for a very long moment. Then it disappeared. Seconds later it appeared again, then disappeared. Rose laughed softly to herself as it happened yet again, now three minutes had past, and she imagined him sitting wherever he was, bent over his phone, fists clenched in consternation, struggling to come up with the right thing to say. It was such an old man thing to do.

She shouldn’t have thought that, because once she did, all she could focus on was how old Hux was. She knew he was much older than her, but was he _too_ much older? She didn’t know his actual age. It made her heart throb with a mild panic, as she realized she was entertaining romantic ideas about a man many years her senior, who also happened to be her instructor, and therefore was unethically obtainable.

What scared her more was that she didn’t give one flying fuck.

**Good.**

The text came in with the subtle ping of a notification sound. Rose stared at it, then growled infuriatingly, laying back against her pillow and glaring at the screen. This was what he had taken three minutes to write? A single syllable word?

**Is it good that it doesn’t hurt…? Or good that I’m bored?**

Rose wished she could see his face, imagining panic or frustrated outrage. She laughed to herself, picturing it, as the reply icon flashed to the screen.

**Good it does not hurt. Read a book.**

Oh, so he thought he could just suggest away her boredom.

**Already done that.**

The reply came almost immediately.

**Do whatever you like, Tico.**

Dismissive, curt, to the point. Rose sighed heavily and dropped her phone to the mattress. He didn’t text like a man interested in growing closer to her, so why had he pushed her down into the mattress and kissed her like one?

Rose realized, with growing mortification and chagrin, that the kiss hadn’t even been a kiss at all, but a marking, a claiming. There were red flags everywhere, if she stopped to take note of them. He was her instructor. He had been semi-intimate with her but had not reciprocated her attempt to build on that intimacy. He bossed her around, his words laden with sexual innuendo. He even stole and kept her favorite scarf. He was possessive, controlling, commanding, demanding, and above all, he refused to acknowledge her as an equal. He did not seem to care about her at all. 

The more she thought about it, the angrier she felt, hurt more than anything else that she had been foolish enough to entertain ideas of a romance with him. She wanted to be the girl she’d been back when she’d first moved to NYC: uninterested in men and obsessed with dance. The irony was not lost on her, however, that her exposure to this man was the key to improving her skill.

Kaydel eventually returned with some pasta from the kitchen for her but she didn’t stay to eat with her. Rose had long since given up trying to have a relationship with her closed off roommate. It was enough that they were courteous to one another. She ate her pasta in silence, her laptop on her lap, playing some show she wasn’t really interested in, her thoughts drowning in self-pity.

The next day was even worse. Rose’s ankle was feeling loads better, and she had taken to putting practiced weight on it, moving slowly around the dorm room and doing menial tasks: folding clothes, organizing her underwear and sock drawer, sweeping the floor. Her foot no longer hurt under her weight, but it was stiff, and strained whenever she tried to pull it too far. She practiced pointing her toe on and off all day long, attempting to get it loose again.

Finn texted and asked if she wanted him to bring food. Rose assured him she could fend for herself now and told him not to bother, thanking him for his concern. She used the elevator and was able to hobble around the building and feed herself. She passed the day in worse boredom than before, still so very tempted to leave the dorm and go to the studio, insisting that her foot was fine. But she needed to be patient. She forced herself back upstairs to her book of poetry and tried to read as she spooned heapfuls of yogurt into her mouth.

Around the time that practice ended, she received another text from Finn. 

**I’m not Romeo anymore.**

Rose tossed her book down onto the mattress and held her phone close to her face, her heart thudding in her chest. She felt mildly guilty that she was excited her friend had been demoted, and hoped her excitement was warranted.

Tapping out a quick reply ( **I’m so sorry to hear that Finn. Really.)** , she backed through her messages until she found the thread with “The Devil” and opened it up, typing out three or four different messages and deleting them again, before finally settling on something she thought sounded relatively neutral.

**Are you dancing Romeo?**

As she stared at the screen, waiting for the reply icon to appear, another text from Finn came in.

**Hux chewed me the fuck out. He’s such an asshole. Fucking prick.**

Rose’s mouth set in a grim frown as she read his words. Of course, Hux chewed him out. At least that was fitting with his character, as long as she’d known him. She didn’t like the little swell of warmth conjured within her at the revelation of this behavior. Sure, it was cute he was defensive of her, but also, what an asshole.

**So sorry, Finn. T_T <3**

She didn’t know what else to say. She flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and allowed herself to entertain, for just a moment, what it would be like to dance with Hux as Romeo and Juliet. There were feelings developing, feelings she didn’t quite understand or even want to acknowledge: complicated feelings. But those were tied up in his mercurial behavior and whatever awkwardly kinky sexual attraction was blossoming between them. When she thought of dance, and specifically dance with Armitage Hux, it felt like a fairytale dream. Ever since she’d witnessed the way he moved and held his body, the power and control he exerted over every minute muscle and ligament in his form, ever since she’d witnessed that he could indeed feel both passion and anguish, that they could come alive on his face in the smallest expressions, she’d been obsessed with him. More than anything, Rose needed him to be her partner. She trusted him and they suited one another so well. He knew the choreography inside out, and most importantly, after months of training her, he knew her. They would be so perfect together.

Her phone pinged with a notification and Rose’s heart swelled with panic. She unlocked her phone and read.

**We will discuss tomorrow. Six am. Studio Five.**

He hadn’t said no…

Rose was ready and waiting in studio five at five thirty am. She’d had to get up very early to be there, but she didn’t care. Her entire body was tense with excitement, every nerve ending alight with hope and tremulous desire. She tried to spend an extra long time warming up, flexing her stiff foot, but she felt too jittery, and ended up making a run through one of Juliet’s solo dances, careful not to extend her previously injured foot too much this early in the day.

Hux arrived just as she finished, appearing in the doorway, stock still and studying her as she fell into the final move – the ballerina bow, leg extended front, body dipping and lowering to the floor.

“Straighten your back,” he barked from across the room.

Rose did as he commanded automatically but rose up quickly from her form and glared at him.

“Thanks, sir,” she quipped. Why could he never just say hello or good morning?

He did not respond but crossed the room, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, and stood before her. He smelled freshly showered, his hair was slicked back in place as usual and his cheeks were warm and healthy looking.

“How is your ankle?”

“Fine.”

Rose glanced down at it and lifted her leg to flex it in the air between them. “It’s a little stiff, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good.”

Silence swelled between them. Rose shifted her weight awkwardly. Hux met her gaze.

“I only-,” He began, but broke off, seeming to struggle for a moment, as if having to wrestle with the words coming from his lips. “I must be candid with you.”

Rose narrowed her eyes in confusion, head tilting just slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I do not want to dance this part with you,” the words came out careful and slow, delivered as if they had been practiced for many hours in front of a mirror. They had been, but Rose didn’t need to know that.

“Why not?” Rose was instantly defensive, feeling the hair on the back of her neck prickle in irritation. She wasn’t going to give up on this so easily, not now that she wanted it. “Why can’t-,”

“Allow me to finish, Tico,” he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing two gloved fingers to the bridge of his nose, massaging his burgeoning tension headache. Lowering his hand, he turned away from her and stared at the floor.

“But I’ll do it. I will dance with you.”

Rose stared at him. He continued to stare at the floor, avoiding her gaze. Neither of them said a word. He looked mildly queasy.

Her first instinct was to tackle him with joy, to squeeze him in her arms and press against him real close and tight, and she very nearly did. But a much stronger desire was beginning to overcome her. Instead, she clenched her fists, gritted her teeth, and raised her chin slightly in defiance, steeling herself for what she was about to say.

“No, thanks.”

It hurt to say. She’d never wanted anything more in her life than to dance with him. She’d almost be willing to beg for it. But her gut was telling her this was something she had to do.

He had never looked more flabbergasted, and his expression alone was enough to make Rose preen with confidence at her conquest. His eyebrows completely blown back, eyes wide, mouth slack in dismay and confusion, he stammered slightly, seeking for words. But the shock was gone in seconds, sliding behind that mask of steel, and he pierced her with a cold green glare.

“Why not, Miss Tico?”

“You told me you don’t _want_ to dance with me. Why would I dance with someone who doesn’t _want_ to dance with me?” She sniped, turning her head to the side and tapping one foot with mild impatience. “Also, you’re rude and horrible to my friends. Finn made an honest mistake. He didn’t deserve your anger.”

Leather creaked loudly in the silence between them as he clenched his fists tightly. Rose wondered if he might rip the seams of his gloves. The thought alone made her throb mercilessly between her thighs. Ghost-like memories flitted through her head, remembering those damn gloves on her body, his lips against her neck. She had to breathe deeply through her nose to regain control of her senses.

“He. Dropped. You.” Hux grit out between clenched teeth, seething. “He endangered your life.”

Rose held her breath. This was what she wanted to hear, this right here. She begged whatever god or spirit may be listening to give her strength. She stepped closer to him, deliberately stopping mere inches away, looking up into his face with a purposefully innocent expression.

“Why do you care?” She all but whispered. His eyes on hers were like molten emerald flames; they caused a delicious shudder to run up and down her spine.

“I don’t.” He lied. She saw right through him.

Rose extended a hand ever so slowly forward, as if offering it to a spooked animal to sniff for trust, very gently, and latched on to one of the lapels of his coat. She pulled him closer with a small tug, stepping into him, feeling his hip bone bump into her belly.

“Why are you so hot and cold, Armitage?” She pondered aloud, as if to herself, her gaze glazing over as she stared at the coat lapel under her hand. “Why do you… tease me so, and then pull away? Why don’t you just admit that you want to dance with me, too?”

Hux wheezed out a heavy breath as her hand fisted on the lapel of his jacket, forcing him to bow a little toward her. He raised a gloved hand over hers and tried to remove her, but her face, so close now, glared up into his with an accusatory stare of her pretty brown eyes. 

“Why are you so afraid of me?” 

“Let me go,” he hissed quite suddenly, his voice dark with a tremor of the fear she was accusing him of. 

Rose refused his request, her free hand joining the first, fisting a large patch of fabric on his chest.

“I’ll let you go when you tell me.”

“Tico,” he growled warningly. His eyes were starting to fill with panic. He looked wild, cornered, like an animal in a trap. His gloved hand tightened over hers. 

“Let. Go.”

“Tell me or I quit.” Rose uttered threateningly; her eyes flashing with anger. 

His hand froze over hers. She wouldn’t dare, she wouldn’t even dream of doing such a thing. Would she?

“What did you just say?”

“Tell me, or I quit. I walk out. I go back to my family.”

Hux laughed, he actually laughed, though the sound was hollow and mirthless, much more like a breath of anger. 

“Why would I care about that?”

Rose studied his expression, so cold, so dark, so miserably wretched and full of trepidation. Her heart sank as she realized this had been a huge mistake. Had she really read him wrong? She’d been so sure, so sure that this thing between them was more than lust and some amazing dancing. She’d seen his obsession with her in the time they’d grown to work together. She’d seen in his dancing that he was so much more than surface level feeling. 

Reluctantly, her hands loosened from his coat. He sighed visibly, relaxing somewhat, and pulled out of her hold, straightening his coat and gloves with indignant jerks, avoiding her gaze. 

“It is good of you to see reason. I will--- ,”

He cut off as Rose turned from him and walked over to her backpack, falling to a crouch on the floor and digging inside for her converse. Hux watched her carefully, still as a statue, but inside he was broiling. As she unlaced her pointe shoes and slipped her stockinged feet out of them, an overwhelming sense of nausea tore through him, and his head spun with vertigo. Surely, she wasn’t going to walk out on him. She couldn’t just walk out on him.

As she slid her feet into the converse and began to tie up the laces, Hux willed himself to move, to say something, to stop this nonsense and keep her here, but he stubbornly remained silent. She was bluffing, he was sure of it. She needed him. She wouldn’t leave.

Tying the final laces, Rose got to her feet and zipped her backpack shut, flinging the strap of the backpack up and over her shoulder, and started for the door. 

“Tico.” 

His voice was soft, full of reluctance and doubt. She ignored him and strode right out into the hall. 

“Tico!”

Farther away now, but more insistent, his mildly panicked cry panged her heart. Rose told herself not to pay attention to the hurt, to ignore the overwhelming desire to return. This was for her own good. He was toxic. She could join a different company; she’d find a better place to dance. Maybe she could even stick around with this company for a while; the private lessons would have to stop. But maybe she could convince Leia to allow Finn to dance Romeo after all. 

“Tico, STOP right there!” 

He had followed her into the hall. She could hear him storming after her. She walked faster, hurrying for the stairwell, gripping the railing and pulling herself in a swinging motion around it, gaining momentum. Her feet tapped quickly down the stairs, head tucked down, and as she rounded the landing mid-way between floors, he caught up with her, sliding down the first few steps before urgently shouting “Rose, please!”

She froze on the landing, her chest heaving with heavy breaths, heart hammering within her chest. She slowly looked up at him, and the sight of his face broke her heart. 

She’d seen him look like a child before, but it was nothing like this. His expression, so young and sad, so miserable, was the most vulnerable thing she had ever witnessed. She doubted he would be able to stomach it, if he knew just how he was looking at her as he slowly descended the steps between them. 

It was his turn to be careful, and he approached her as if she were the skittish animal, one hand held out in supplication. Rose allowed him to come closer, studying his face, and was surprised when he reached out and grabbed hold of her backpack strap, not her arm, or her wrist or hand, avoiding touching her.

He wore gloves to avoid touching people, he had flinched when she tried to hug him once, he hated to be seen dancing, vulnerable, weakened, he was so hesitant with her, so tentative, far too careful when she knew from how he’d kissed and handled her that he wanted to be and do so much more. The realization fell on her all at once, and it was like a light had come on, shining and radiant, pointing her toward his truth.

“Who hurt you?” She breathed in awe and agony.

He flinched at her words, glaring down at the floor between them, jaw clenched tight. This was far too much for him, too much too fast. He’d slipped up and revealed too much of himself, even just that tiny bit felt jarring, and she’d somehow wormed her way in and was making the hole in his mask so much bigger. He wanted to retaliate in anger and frustration. He wanted to tell her to back the fuck off and get out of his life and leave him alone and just go away. But part of him wanted the exact opposite, and for the first time in his life, Armitage Hux had no idea what to say or do. He just stood there, pleading with her in that little gesture of clinging to her backpack, refusing to speak or bow further. This was enough. This was all he could offer. If she did not understand, then she would leave, and he would never regret it.

Rose’s backpack fell to the floor with a thud, but before Hux could draw his hand away, she had grabbed it with both of her own. She gazed up at him with sincerity, stepping toward him with his gloved hand nestled between hers. When she was sure he was watching her, trembling with nerves and confusion, she lowered her head and gently kissed the end of his gloved fingertips.

Armitage felt a fire burn from his head down to his toes, something like the sound of the ocean roaring in his ears as he watched her lean down and take her backpack in one hand, the other hand still clasping his. Her fingers slid between his to grip him tighter, and she turned and began to lead him back up the stairs by his hand. He followed her, silent, still burning with so much warmth, wondering if he’d ever stop, as she led him down the hall and back into studio five.

“What dance are we working on today?” She asked when they’d arrived, dropping his hand and her bag and crouching to the floor. The zipping sound ripped through the air as she opened the bag and pulled out her pointe shoes.

Hux stood stiff as stone, staring at her. He was incredibly dazed and confused, like he wasn’t quite sure what was happening, or how to respond, or even where he was on the planet at that moment. He didn’t like feeling this vulnerable, this out of control, but for the first time in his life he wasn’t panicked about it. He simply didn’t know what to do or how to react.

But Rose was not making a big deal about it. She studiously put her pointe shoes back on while he stood, as yet unmoving, then got to her feet and turned toward him with a small smile.

“Well?” She gestured to the dance floor, her smile hesitating somewhat. “We don’t have much time left before class. Should we…?”

She trailed off, leaving the decision in his hands.

Armitage licked his lips and pressed them thin, trying to recover his general suave behavior as quickly as she’d recovered her cheerfulness. But he had been shaken to the core by this little flower of a woman, and it took him three times as long to come to his senses. He nodded, turning slowly from her and making his way to the soundboard, plugging his phone in and dazedly skimming through playlists, passing the show music too many times without realizing, before finally landing on a basic piano track that would be suitable for practice.

He turned back toward her, noting she had gone to the bar and began warming up. He watched her stretch, her eyes on her own body in the mirror as she moved, seemingly unaffected and one hundred percent recovered from her prior anger.

It made Hux feel uneasy. He wasn’t used to people who had the right to be angry with him recovering so suddenly. He wasn’t used to people being nice.

It was a few long moments before he realized his entire body was shaking. He breathed sharply through his nose and smoothed his hair back, doing his very best to get his fucking shit together, and crossed the room to join Rose at the bar. He did not remove his coat and he did not partake in exercise, he just studied her.

“So… so we are… we are to dance together, then?” He asked, his voice timid.

Rose paused mid-stretch, her arm high over her head, and peered at him over her shoulder, giving him a brilliant smile.

“I should have thought that was obvious, Armitage.”

He bristled.

“Mr. Hux or sir.”

“No,” Rose shook her head, dropping her leg and arm and turning to face him. “We’re partners now… Armitage.”

The bloody infuriating minx was too much, far too much, and Hux clenched his fists tighter than ever as his face, his ears, his neck, his whole body burned, bright red, hotter than the sun.

“You’re not going to tell me what to do.” He sulked, stomping across the room as he removed his coat.

Rose watched him go with a smug smile playing on her lips. He was slowly coming back to her, coming back to himself. She knew she’d pushed too far. She knew he’d been hurting from her words, her challenge, her actions. But she also knew if she hadn’t done so, they would have parted ways.

Now he was hers to dance with. And Rose was full of pure delight.

They didn’t have much time together, not since they’d spent the majority of their extra morning practice time bickering amongst one another, their first fight. Neither of them recognized they viewed it in this manner; neither of them acknowledging it as such. They ran through their pas de deux quickly, once through, it was all they had time for. 

Hux wore his gloves, but somehow they didn’t quite feel like they were working. When she ran at him, leapt at him, flying through the air like a butterfly, growing wings of fearless faith and trust, landing so lightly in his hands, he could feel her through the leather, like her skin had some kind of reverse x-ray power. She burned in his palms as he spun her, pulled her up onto his shoulder, held her there with a firm grasp around her thighs. 

They had struggled so much with this move. But now it came easy. 

She slid against him as he lowered her, so close and so warm, and Hux thought, for the briefest of weak moments, that he would be willing to die just like this, in this exact position, with her. 

Then she was gone, spinning away from him again. She pranced around the room, becoming Juliet. 

Would he ever be able to become Romeo?

The way she looked at him said yes. The way she looked at him said that, in her eyes, he already was. It was so overpowering, he felt enslaved to it, and terror consumed him. It was too much, all too much, but she was sprinting around the room again, on her toes, round and round and round like she’d become so dizzy, and he hurried to catch her, doing his part. 

He would never let her fall. 

She dipped toward the ground in his arms, lowered as he crouched gracefully with her, feeling a change in his limbs and ligaments. He was dancing. He was actually dancing. 

As he pointed his toes, lifted her, turned her in his arms and lowered her again, her hands dragged down his chest and her cheek nestled against him. It was the part, just the part, Juliet and her Romeo, but oh, how it made his heart flutter. 

He told himself he could do this. So he did. He pressed his cheek into her hair, drew one gloved hand up the small of her back, tiptoeing along the length of her spine, then she was gone again, up on pointe, dancing away from him, flirtatious, coy. 

Such a perfect Juliet. 

She beckoned him with her heart and her arms, and he sprinted to her, leaping with such power and confidence that he saw her witness the change in him, saw it in her eyes. She seemed awed, so proud, and he wondered why he’d never sought this kind of attention before. He could feel the reason lurking below the surface of his skin, always there, but for once, he managed to suppress it as they came together once more.

He was holding her again and it felt so right. It was time for the kiss, the kiss Romeo gave Juliet, the one they had not practiced yet out of propriety, out of lack of necessity. Rose looked at him expectantly, allowing him to decide. 

Too soon, he told himself, and instead pressed his face to her throat as he dipped and turned her in the dance move. She made a sound, so soft, so weak for him, but he ignored it, and held her closer as the music ended. 

“You can feel that, can’t you?” Rose breathed as they stood there, frozen, neither willing to move. She was limp in his arms, trusting, their bodies pressed close as they both breathed in sync. 

“Feel what?” He whispered, meeting her eyes as he loomed over her. 

“Perfection,” Rose smiled softly. “It’s perfection, Armitage.”

Perfection. 

  
  
  



	10. Emboîté

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Sorry,” he murmured sweetly._
> 
> _Rose watched him, filled with so much warm feeling, so much appreciation for him. She’d never been in love and she didn’t know how it felt. But she wondered. Could this be...?_
> 
> Hux tries to adjust to dancing a lead role for the first time in years, finding solace in the arms of a 🌹.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [ @ElfMaidenOfLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight) for helping me muse through Hux/Rose headcanons. 🌹 An ENORMOUS thank you to[@HellyJellyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/pseuds/Hellyjellybean) and [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26) for being amazing Betas, so fast and so fabulous! 🌹 Finally, thanks to [@KarmaDash_is_ShippingTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarmaDash_is_ShippingTrash/pseuds/KarmaDash_is_ShippingTrash) for creating such an amazing playlist that is refreshing to write to. 🌹 I've pulled songs from hers and made a playlist that encapsulates everything from this story. You can give it a listen [ here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5gpRFP4Mf8ub5BhfWe9zwa?si=zLOrAk5YRnWd2Ik-FJLp_g)!
> 
> Chapter title: Emboîté from [this list of ballet terms ](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/) meaning "fitted together", which is in reference to how a dancer holds their limbs, but I think you can catch the double-meaning after reading. ❤️

It was less than two weeks until the show. Saturday practices were now mandatory for every dancer in the company, even those who were not cast in roles, to keep them in tip top shape in case they had to fulfill an understudy. The atmosphere in the Skywalker & Solo company had changed entirely. Before, they were a lighthearted group of dancers who liked to make whimsical ideas come to life with the movements of their bodies. Now, they were hammers and nails and chisels desperate for some sort of approval and absolution from those in command of them. One individual was having the hardest time of them all, as both hammer, chisel, and commander. Armitage Hux, still labeled an instructor for the company, was both supervising lessons for the lead roles of their show and simultaneously practicing his own role.

This would have been fine, aside from the now regulatory nightmares and sleepless nights staring at the ceiling, envying the fluffy Millicent by his side, who slept around sixteen hours a day. This would have been fine aside from the fact that his muscles ached more than they had in years. He had to take long baths in the evening, soaking in bath salts, and rub ointments into his skin. All of this he could stomach; it was normal. What he could not stomach was being forced to dance with anyone other than Rose Tico.

Which he had to do, and was doing, nine days before he had to grace the stage as Romeo of fair Verona. He stood in a studio, soft lilac shadows underneath his eyes, across the room from Kaydel Connix, who had been asked to fill the role of Rosaline since Rose had been promoted to Juliet. It was a small part, a small dance, nothing too serious, but he had to be close to her, he had to touch her, he had to turn her in his hands, a few moments, while she mostly danced around the stage in a flirtatious way, teasing Romeo.

He tasted bile in the back of his mouth.

Hux hadn’t been given proper time to dissect why it was okay for him to dance with Rose, why it didn’t hurt when it was with her. He didn’t want to touch that subject with a twenty-foot pole just yet. He was content to leave it locked up within the box he kept all of his emotions in, to deny it existed and ignore it. He was fine just going through the motions, and every so often Rose and he would break through into something beautiful and extraordinary, something that shook them both to the core in their dancing. This usually only happened whenever they were alone, after hours, dancing away into the night, drenched in sweat and tentative wonder.

Hux found himself longing for one of those moments, wishing to disappear from the scrutiny of the small crowd around him, tuck himself into Rose’s arms, her body pressed to his, and turn her again and again on her pointed toe until they both passed out from exhaustion.

_Dance with me, Armitage._

He blinked away the memory of his mother, clenching his jaw so tightly it ached. Sometimes, when he was this tired, the nightmares seeped into his reality. He had to fight to keep them at bay.

“Begin the dance,” Leia Organa-Solo called.

Kaydel began to move toward him. Hux noted that she did not possess the natural talent his Rose displayed; her motions were sloppy and lazy. He wanted to call her out on them, but he could not. He was a performer here, today, in this place. It made him angry to be collared like this; his need to control was hampered by obedience to a rank above him.

“Stop, stop!” Leia called, ordering the dancer manning the soundboard to cut the music.

Kaydel, who had been spinning toward him on pointe, lowered impatiently to her feet and looked to Leia.

Hux smiled smugly to himself, content that Leia was going to reprimand the errant dancer and buckle her down, fix her sloppy motions.

“What the hell is wrong with your face, Hux?” Leia snapped at him.

Surprised, offended even, that he had been the reason she stopped the music, his head snapped toward her and he narrowed his eyes in anger.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“Your face, Hux,” Leia’s mouth was curling wryly in the corner, as if unsure if she should be smiling or frowning, laughing or yelling. “Romeo is supposed to be in _love_ with Rosaline.”

Hux felt an overwhelming pressure pulse behind his eyes. Of course, Romeo loved Rosaline here, he hadn’t even met Juliet yet. Of course, he was fucking it all up. Of course, this was expected. This was why he didn’t want to dance. This was why he had to tell Rose he couldn’t dance anymore; he couldn’t do it. Not with her, even if he wanted to.

He pressed his palms into his eyes and nodded.

“Yes. Sorry,” he uttered quietly, his voice full of irritated frustration. “Let’s go again. I’ve got it.”

The music started up again, from the beginning, and Kaydel began to move toward him once more. He could not help but stare at her with disgust, hating how she moved, how she turned, how lazily she raised her legs, but he did his best to suppress these emotions, hiding them behind a new mask, a different one, a prettier one. He tried to look as if he were in love, though this acting part had never been his strong suit when he had been a dancer, so many years ago.

He moved toward her, spinning in place, turning, extending his leg, feeling the stretch burn, but none of this felt right. He found himself wishing that Rose were here. But she was in the next studio, behind the wall to his left, dancing with Finn, practicing the part when Juliet became betrothed to Paris.

He tried to remember the moves of that particular dance. Was it romantic? Did Paris hold Juliet close? Rey had mostly choreographed that scene, so perhaps-

Kaydel danced past him and he was called out of his thoughts, barely remembering to catch his hands around her waist and spin her back. He did so, thankful for the gloves on his hands, and she spun away from him again, giving him a coyly shy wink, and pranced off to the side, to promenade toward what would be front-center stage.

_Show me what she taught you today._

Hux stopped dead in the center of the room, his insides flooding with cold.

_Fucking wimp of a boy… stand up straight. Even a little shit like you can have a straight spine._

No, no, no, no, no, he thought. A chorus of no’s filled his head, echoing and resounding.

“Hux?” Someone was gently calling.

He pressed his hands over his face, nausea overwhelming him.

“I-,” He had to save face. He had to find a way out of this, safely, so no one knew. No one could know. “I feel sick. Excuse me.”

He couldn’t remember making it to the bathroom, but suddenly he was there, barely lucid enough to have removed his gloves, lying on the cold tile, vomiting up the entire contents of his stomach into the porcelain toilet, which wasn’t much, just a piece of toast from breakfast and a hard-boiled egg at lunch. It was all he had managed to get down.

_Leg higher! You won’t get into an academy with a form like that. Why the fuck do I let you continue to see her if you cannot even do_ ** _this_** _right?!_

He could feel the lash of the switch against his calves, hot and biting, leaving fresh memories of the welts that had been there, once upon a time. He sobbed drily over the toilet, passing his palms over his calves, telling himself it wasn’t real, it’s not real, the man was dead, gone, he’d hung himself in a prison cell.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed while he was in there, cowering, afraid to come out. He’d wait until everyone had left for the day, it wasn’t too long. There had only been an hour left of practice the last time he’d checked the clock. He leaned up against the wall, pressing his cheek to the tile, mildly disgusted, but his pride won out over his cleanliness. Closing his eyes, he fought the voices in his head that were not voices at all, but memories of a time he would much rather forget, a time he carried with him daily like a dead albatross around his neck.

“Armitage?”

His eyes opened at the sound of her soft, familiar voice. At first, he was flooded with an emotion that suspiciously felt like joy or relief, but as he realized he was sitting on a bathroom floor, his cheek pressed to a dirty wall, hiding from the memory of monsters in his past and skeletons in his closet, the joy soon gave way to agonizing trepidation. She could not see him like this.

“Armitage,” Her voice was softer but closer, and the stall door shook a little. “I can see your foot. Will you come out, please?”

“Why are you here?” He was glad his voice sounded steady and sure, normal, for him.

“Everyone’s gone home. Kaydel told me you ran in here… said you were sick?” Rose’s voice came closer as she crouched beside the stall door. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He lied. The lie came easily. “You may go home.”

“What about practice?” She sounded disappointed. They had been meeting every day, dancing together after every official practice. It was his favorite part of the day, and by the tone of her voice, he wondered if it was hers, too. Impossible.

“Take a break tonight.”

Rose was silent. He could hear her toes tapping impatiently on the floor, as he waited with baited breath for her to walk out and leave.

“Before I go, will you let me see you?” She sounded so hesitant. “I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Hux flooded with terror, knowing that was absolutely out of the question. He would rather die than show her this, would rather take a knife and gauge out his own two eyes. He thought of yelling at her to go away, insulting her, lashing out. It was his instinct.

But if he did that, she likely wouldn’t come back anymore.

He softened, resting his head in his hands, exhaling heavily.

“Go home, Rose,” was all he said.

She sighed. The stall door pressed in a little as she touched it, then shook slightly as she removed her hand, turned, and left the bathroom.

Hux waited a long while before pulling himself up off the floor and opening the stall door. He stood at the sink, washing his hands and arms for a few minutes, then scrubbed his cheeks with soap and water until they were red from rubbing so hard. Sitting on the bathroom floor was disgusting. He couldn’t believe he had sunk so low.

Smoothing his hair back with wet palms, he dried his hands and pulled his gloves back on, then stepped into the hallway. He headed back toward the studio he had been practicing in with Kaydel earlier that day, going back for his coat, but as he rounded the door frame he came to an abrupt halt.

Rose stood before him, holding his coat in her hands, a small frown on her face.

“I told you to go home,” he snapped at her, bristling head to toe like a spooked cat. He snatched the coat out of her hands and flung it around his shoulders, turning on his heel to try and make his escape from her.

“Armitage, stop!” She bit out, now sounding angry herself.

He paused when he felt her hand on his wrist. He wanted to throw her off, to tell her not to touch him, but he’d gotten more used to her touch since they’d increased the frequency of their dancing. It wasn’t so bad, in small doses. He allowed himself to be turned by her, pulled back under her gentle strength. It was futile to fight anyway. Lately, she’d been getting her way in whatever she wanted.

“You’re still not sleeping well…” She mumbled under her breath, as if diagnosing him. He felt her eyes on his face, wondering what she saw there: a weak skeleton of a man, with sunken eyes and sallow skin, awkwardly protruding cheekbones: hideous.

He did not meet her gaze.

“Come with me,” Rose took his gloved hand in hers, already prepared to leave, her backpack straps over both shoulders.

Their fingers intertwined. Hux just let it happen, too tired to fight it. He couldn’t fight the memory of his father, his mother, and fight her, too. He had no energy left.

She led him out of the studio and across the park, toward the dorms. When he saw this, he hesitated, tried to pull back, but she stopped and assured him it would be okay because it was Saturday night, explaining that Kaydel was always out over the weekend with some mystery boyfriend.

Hux followed her silently after that. He couldn’t help wondering what she intended but kept glancing at the windows of the dorms as they approached, his palm beginning to sweat in his glove, nervous that someone would look outside and see. He finally pulled his hand from her grip. She stopped to look back, to see if he would follow, and she smiled in satisfaction when he did.

She let him into her room, urging him on with a nod of her head, holding the door open. He slipped inside, standing tall and imposing next to her closet door, staring down at her nervously, unsure of why he was there.

Rose slung her backpack down onto her bed and strode toward the cabinet over her desk, leaning up on her tiptoes and straining for a box on the top shelf. She had to tap at it with her fingertips to get it to move, and as it slid downward, caught it in both palms. She turned back toward him with a big grin, then fell into a seated position on her mattress, bouncing a little. She shoved the backpack to the floor and patted the space before her on the bed.

“Come here,” she watched him expectantly.

Hux crossed the room slowly, sinking onto the mattress across from her, his gloved hands clenched into tight fists.

“Why am I here, Tico?” Old habits died hard.

“Rose,” she insisted, rummaging around inside the big metal box she had retrieved from the shelf. “I’m going to help you.”

“Help me?” He scoffed lightly, running a hand through his hair, trying to control the strands that had fallen into his forehead after a long day of practice. “I don’t need any help.”

Rose gave him a hard look, lips pursed, and rolled her eyes slowly for emphasis.

“You’re paler than normal, your eyes have little purple circles, it’s just sad. You need to sleep.”

“I always look this way,” Hux argued, growing impatient and irritated for no good reason.

Rose shook her head, eyes flooded with concern.

“No. No you don’t.”

She tried to hand him a little cylindrical tin, then, snapping the lid of the box shut and giving him a warm smile.

“Here. My granny's secret sleep tea recipe.”

“Y-… your what?” Hux studied the tin with extreme dubious scrutiny and refused to take it.

“My gran… she’s passed away now, but I used to have nightmares as a kid. She’d brew me a cup of this and I’d fall right to sleep. I can’t tell you what’s in it though, I don’t know. Dad keeps the recipe to himself now.”

All this talk of grannies and dads was starting to pluck at a hollow place within himself. He’d never had a loved one make him tea to help him sleep or tuck him in at night and kiss his forehead, which he supposed her family also did for her.

“Do you have any booze at home?” She questioned, pressing the tin into his gloved palm.

“Whiskey.” He answered drily, staring down at the tin.

“Good. Brew the tea, steep just under boiling for five minutes, then pour in two shots of whiskey, a spoonful of honey, and a squeeze of lemon. Drink it and you’ll sleep tonight. I promise you.”

“Your grandmother put whiskey in your tea when you were little?” Hux cocked a brow, doubtful.

Rose laughed. He loved the sound. It was musical and sweet.

“No. But it works better if you do.”

He studied the tin, then glanced up into her sunny expression, noting a hint of dark worry lurking beneath her usual radiating joy. Did she really feel this way for him? Certainly not.

“Thank you,” he pocketed the tin in his coat, then stood and turned to make his way toward the door.

Rose followed him, sliding past him and putting her hand on the doorknob to keep him from leaving, her free hand resting gently on his chest, their only contact just at the tips of her fingers.

“Promise me you’ll try it?” She insisted, a tremor of concern evident in her voice.

Hux studied her, overcome with the sudden urge to hold her, to bury his face in her shoulder, pull her tightly to him. But so far, the only time he had touched her like that had been in dance. There was no further intimacy between them. Still, the urge overpowered him, and he stepped closer, causing her hand to flatten against his chest.

He might have kissed her, but that little touch reminded him that he was weak and small, and hideous beneath his uniform. Underneath her hand, underneath his clothing, underneath his skin lived a sea of inadequacies. If he kissed her, someday he might have to show her, and that was simply unacceptable.

“I promise.”

She stepped aside, appeased, and he pulled the door open, whisking out into the hallway and closing the door behind him, making his quick way out of the dorm and back into the night, to his car and to his condo, to be alone with his thoughts.

That night, he did as she asked of him. He brewed the tea. He added whiskey. He drank it.

He was surprised to find that he did, in fact, sleep through the night, enveloped in a warmth that had nothing to do with the sheets and blankets around him, and cushioned not by pillows, but a feeling of safety, that somewhere in this city, someone cared enough to help him sleep through the night for the very first time in his life. Perhaps that was what really helped him nod off into sleep.

Practices increased in frequency. Hux and Rose were never alone during the daytime anymore. The company had moved to staged performances, and Hux was thankful that the entire company was together. It meant Rose was required to be there for every single practice performance. With her present, he found it easier to dance with Kaydel. And thanks to her tea and her care, he was sleeping more soundly through the night now, so his father stayed at bay, not banished, but lurking below the surface.

Rose was the bright light that kept him out.

It was getting harder and harder for Hux to ignore how he was beginning to feel about her. He’d had relationships in the past, simple flings that were nothing more than clothed sex and a date or two. They’d always ended when the other person stepped too close, when he realized they wanted more.

Rose had been much sneakier. He hadn’t noticed her creeping up on him, until suddenly she was beneath his skin, inside his blood, and he couldn’t breathe in her absence. He forgave himself for this slip only because he recognized her strength and intuition: she understood him, he could see it, and he was tired of fighting it.

Even so, they were still only dance partners. They hadn’t been on dates. They hadn’t so much as touched one another in that way since the day she sprained her ankle. This was a silent agreement between the two of them, since the day their relationship had changed, since she’d forced him to expose a little of himself to her. This was real, whatever it was, and it deserved to be honored.

That didn’t stop him from wanting her, especially in the dim light of the studio when they were alone. When he lowered her out of a lift and she pressed against him, as Juliet, she was playing her part, but he’d ponder, for the briefest of moments, what it would be like if she were Rose, and he dipped her back just like this. Would her legs wrap around him, could he feel her heat there at her core? Could she take him in and melt with fire and love like she did as Juliet?

His hand spanned up her torso, finding her breast. He was supposed to do this, it was part of the dance, how close could Romeo get before Juliet would stop him, horny little teenager that he was.

Rose didn’t always stop him. Sometimes she forgot to move.

He didn’t correct her.

This was dangerous, so dangerous, he was playing with fire. But then she’d move again, dance into him, spin on her toe, then away again.

He liked to catch her. It was his favorite part and filled him with pride that he was making good on his promise that he would never let her fall.

He could tell she liked to fly to him, too. As they bonded, became more trusting, she became more daring, falling into his arms more freely, the expression of her dance taking on goddess-like quality. Hux had never seen such a beautiful dancer. He couldn’t even have predicted this, though he’d known when he saw her tape, so many months ago, that she was special, he just hadn’t known how special.

There were only three days until opening night. They still hadn’t practiced the kiss. He was terrified, not to kiss her, but that he wouldn’t be able to stop. He had to be Romeo, not Armitage, and the thin line between the two was blurring more and more every day.

She sat on the bench in studio five, one pointe shoe on the floor, massaging her stockinged foot and hissing with pain.

“What’s wrong?” He asked her quietly, eyes narrowed in concern.

“Just blisters,” Rose sighed. “And these tights are ruined.”

“Let me see.”

He crossed the room and snatched her backpack up in his hand, fishing inside for her first aid kit, then made his way quickly to her. Falling to one knee on the floor, he took her leg in his gloved hands and pulled her foot onto his thigh. Her tights had rubbed large holes in places, part of the white fabric bloodied, and small, popped and patchy blisters covered her foot. This was normal for a dancer, especially one who was pushing herself as hard as Rose was, but it still filled him with fury.

“We’re done for today,” he uttered coldly.

Rose made an angry sound of protest.

“No, we still haven’t quite got the end lift correct.”

She hissed as he pressed an alcohol pad to her wounds, dabbing as gently as possible.

“Armitage, the glove…”

He glanced up into her face, finding her wincing with more pain than necessary as the leather agitated her wounds. He cursed and caught the middle finger of his glove in his teeth and pulled, tossing it to the side with a shake of his head.

“Sorry,” he murmured sweetly.

Rose watched him tend to her wounds, filled with so much warm feeling, so much appreciation for him. She’d never been in love and she didn’t know how it felt. But she wondered. Could this be...?

“Let me see the other,” Armitage had finished bandaging her foot, sliding it tenderly to the floor to open a place for her other foot. He gently unwound the ties of her pointe shoe, gloved and ungloved fingers alternating in little brushes over her skin.

“Thank you.” Rose whispered softly, her voice betraying her emotional state.

He glanced up at her, shocked to see calm adoration in her eyes. It trembled through him, a soft warning bell reminding him that he wasn’t enough for her. That bell was being drowned out so easily lately.

“You’re welcome.”

He finished with her foot and gently set it on the floor, picking up the refuse left over from the bandages and packing up the first aid kit once more. She watched him in quiet contemplation as he did so, and as he stood to take the kit back to her bag, her hand extended and laid gently over the top of his bare one.

The touch of her skin on his made his head spin, his organs distended in a terrifying weightless absence of gravity.

“We still haven’t practiced the kiss,” she murmured softly.

“It’s just a kiss,” he uttered in a matter-of-fact tone, pulling away from her and walking back towards her bag. He stowed the kit in its proper place and slid the bandage scraps into a side pouch. The studio didn’t have a rubbish bin.

“A kiss in front of a live audience.” Rose countered, rising to her feet. “Don’t you think we need to practice?”

Hux’s ears turned red.

“No. The day of the show, when it comes time, we’ll just… do it. It will be fine.”

“We can’t ‘just do it’,” Rose mimicked his tone, swiping her fingers in air quotes as she repeated his phrase. “Have you ever ‘just kissed’ someone?”

Armitage’s face turned red. He stared at her, then looked away.

“No way,” Rose’s eyes widened with realisation.

“Tico,” He slipped back into old habits, again, growling at her as she stalked toward him, a look of glee on her face. “Stop.”

“You-… You’ve never kissed anyone?!” Rose exclaimed, a joyous laugh leaving her. “No way, tell me I’m wrong.”

“I have!” He snapped back at her. She didn’t need to know it had been many, many years. The last time he’d kissed a girl, he’d been a teenager. He wasn’t even going to begin to broach that topic with her.

She frowned, studying him, looking like she didn’t believe him at all.

“I have, and I still insist that it’s just a kiss,” he reached into her backpack and pulled out her converse, handing them to her. “Put these on. You’re going home.”

Rose crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a strong “bitch please” look.

“Rose,” he sighed with irritation, thrusting the shoes across the air between them.

“I can’t put these on, they’ll hurt,” Rose pouted softly. “You’ll have to carry me.”

“Carry you?”

“Yes,” She gave him a soft smile. “Like the day I hurt my ankle. You seemed quite capable and willing then. Well, I’m injured now. Carry me.”

He eyed her with mistrust. She had something planned. He could tell.

“No, you can walk. Just don’t tie the laces down.”

“And trip down the stairs? Leia would love to have her lead ballerina break a leg before opening night,” Rose mused solemnly, shrugging and reaching for the converse.

He snatched them back before she could take them and shoved them into her bag, eying her with slight fury, his nostrils flaring. He dropped the bag and paced toward her, intent on picking her up from behind, to carry her on his back so she couldn’t try anything. But as he came closer, Rose reached out in the space between them and fisted his leotard tight in her small hand, yanking him down toward her, and rose up onto her toes, one arm wrapping around his neck to keep him there, bent awkwardly over her due to his height.

“Hi,” She murmured softly, her eyes peering up into his, her breath on his lips.

“Dammit, Rose,” He managed to breathe before she pressed her mouth to his.

Hux thought of fireworks, sparklers and firecrackers, of matches flicking to life and smoldering cigarettes, volcanoes blowing their magma high into the air, coals simmering, glowing red with their heat. None of that compared to the heat blooming between them as he leaned farther into her, spine curving to accommodate her short stature, his hands finding their home at her waist, stroking her. Both of them broke apart for a short breath before she dove in again, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth.

He groaned slightly, pulling her closer, and she hopped up, expecting him to catch her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He did, raising her higher, his hands cupping her bottom as he turned her there, lost in the incessant inquiry of her tongue at his closed lips, demanding entry. He parted them for her, trembling as her slick, molten hot tongue darted inside with a laugh of pleasure, finding his and pressing against it with a soft flicker. Her fingers tugged at his hair, and he tried to fight back, pressed his tongue to hers, urging it out of his mouth, but her lips found it and suckled softly, sending a roaring throb of lust straight down to his cock.

He broke away, gasping painfully, but she was hungry, and peppered his jawline with kisses, fingernails scraping his scalp.

“Rose,” He begged, panting for air, feeling smothered. She had never felt so heavy before in his arms.

“Armitage,” She sighed lovingly, running her tongue along the shell of his ear, nipping his earlobe.

“This-… this isn’t how the kiss is supposed to go.” He objected, thinking of innocent Romeo and Juliet and their first true kiss.

“Shut up.” Rose mumbled against his mouth, drawing him closer and greedily sucking his lower lip into her mouth. She could feel him hardening against her, and now that she had him trapped, she wasn’t about to let go.

Across the room, her phone started to ring in her bag. Rose ignored it, trying her very best to get Armitage to kiss her back. But he was pulling away, distracted, and she whined in irritation, grinding her core against his belly. He moaned softly and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, his arms beginning to shake.

“Rose, please-,” He begged.

She liked him begging. It filled her with pride.

The phone continued to ring.

She thought, briefly, of getting revenge, as her lips slowly trailed down his throat. He twitched beneath her, hot and hard, and she ground into him once as she bit down on his neck, eliciting a soft gasp followed by a low growl from his lips. She licked him there, intent on marking him as he had her. It was only fair. 

“Your phone-,” He grit out, and she slipped a little in his arms. “They’ve called three times. It could be important.”

Rose growled and pulled away reluctantly, rolling her eyes to glare at the ceiling.

“Let me down, then.” 

He did so without a word, wincing as her entire body rubbed against his erection on her way down.

He watched her make her way over to her backpack, bending down to fish inside for her phone. Her ass flashed him beneath her little uniform skirt and he bit a gloved knuckle to keep from making a sound, averting his eyes immediately.

“Oh, hey Paige!”

He glanced over at her as she answered the phone, curiosity getting the better of him. He wondered which family member Paige was.

“You’re here? In New York? I thought your flight didn’t come in until tomorrow!”

She sounded very excited, a sudden difference from her previous behavior, and Hux listened intently. It was strange to witness someone who loved their family so much.

“Shit… Fuck! I’ll be right there. I can’t believe you’re here!”

Her eyes were filling with tears. Hux frowned slightly.

She hung up the phone and bent down to grab her bag, tossing him a sheepish and shy look.

“Um… could you… do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Can you give me a lift to the airport?”

He glanced down at himself in his leggings, still obviously aroused, and sighed carefully.

“I… I don’t-,”

“You’re right.” Rose winced, realization suddenly dawning upon her at what she had done, what she had started, what she had caused. “I can take a cab. I think I’ve got enough money.” 

“No,” He grit out, meeting her apologetic gaze across the room. “No, I’ll take you.”

He wasn’t aware of it yet, but at this point, he would do anything for her. Anything at all. She had him tied on the end of a string. 


	11. Pas de Deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage Hux and Rose Tico perform together as Romeo and Juliet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of enticing summary, but I want to keep this chapter a treasured surprise. This is one of the "big deal" things I've been working toward. I share it with you with all my heart and hope that you enjoy. 
> 
> Thanks to [@HellyJellyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/pseuds/Hellyjellybean) and [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26) for being amazing Betas, so fast and so fabulous! 🌹
> 
> Chapter title: Pas de Deux from [this list of ballet terms ](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/) meaning "dance/step of two", which is in the title of this piece and the whole point of why it exists! ❤️ I hope you enjoy Hux and Rose's "dance of two".
> 
> Also, in this chapter, Rey wishes Rose "merde" before going on stage. It's sort of like the dancer's version of "break a leg". More information [can be found here](https://www.dancespirit.com/history-of-merde-2630567236.html).

It was the first week in December and the temperature was already dropping. It wasn’t cold enough to snow yet, but cold enough that one needed more than a light jacket when spending any amount of time outside. Which meant that only Hux was prepared when both he and Rose exited the dance studio together in the early winter evening. Rose wore only her sunny yellow hoodie and, drenched in sweat from the day’s practices, felt the cool air seeping in through the crack in the front door and shivered in the chill.

Hux froze, one gloved hand on the door handle, and gave her a highly annoyed once-over.

“Take off the backpack,” he muttered, shrugging his shoulders out of his coat.

Rose blinked up at him, realizing what he was doing, and shook her head.

“It’s not far to your car. I can make it.”

“Take it off,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Rose did as requested, feeling so warm already simply from the gesture, and slid her arms into the sleeves of his coat, feeling a thrill as its weight fell over her, swallowing her in his scent and his warmth. She nestled into it, giving him a happy smile. He hoisted her backpack up over his shoulder and pulled the door open.

“What about you?” Rose frowned, noting how he shivered as he stepped out into the night.

“I have another in my car. Let’s go.”

He led her to his sleek black vehicle, unlocking the door with a press to the button on the key fob, and indicated with a pointed finger that she should get into the passenger seat. She did so while he moved to the trunk, placing her backpack inside and pulling out a long, dark blue windbreaker. He used it for running on rainy days; it always stayed in his vehicle, so it’d be easy to grab from the street in front of his condo. It wasn’t too warm, but it broke the wind on his damp practice clothing.

Rose was quiet as he pulled out of the parking lot and out onto the street. She noted, with interest, that his car was immaculately clean and still had that “new car” smell, but she could see from the dashboard that the mileage indicated it was not as new as it appeared to be. She thought of her car back in Houston and cringed to think of having to drive him anywhere in it; coffee stains on the center console, crumbs and dirt in the floor, fast food trash crumpled up in the back seat. They were so different. But she found his type-A personality rather attractive, in some peculiar way.

He drove so carefully, like her father. Rose noted this with interest, her cheeks turning just a slight pink at the comparison, and she nestled further into the coat, inhaling his now familiar smell. She mused that she could get used to this.

A soft piano song had been playing in the background, some French Impressionist piece, and Rose reached across to turn the volume knob up.

“This song is beautiful. What is it?”

Hux tapped the button to turn off the music entirely, as response to her question.

“Do you have an aversion to talking about music?”

“It’s personal,” was all he offered.

Rose sighed, glancing out the window as they drove past some very large buildings. The city was beautiful at night, but sometimes the vacant places tended to look very lonely to her.

“When are you going to open up to me?” She wondered aloud to herself.

“I wasn’t under the impression that I had to,” he quipped back.

Rose pierced him with a look of indignation. He did not turn to look back at her, keeping his eyes firmly on the road, and she leaned across the center console into his space, her chin hovering near his shoulder.

“You think I don’t know how you feel about me,” she murmured softly. “You’re wrong.”

His spine stiffened as he suddenly felt her hand on his thigh, her fingers curling down between his legs.

“Rose,” he all but snarled at her, terrified to feel that his cock was starting to get worked up again at the light brush of her fingertips. 

“Stop. I’m driving.”

Rose let out a soft chuckle and relented, sinking back into her seat and glancing over at him.

“How’s the little problem I caused?”

“It _was_ doing fine.” Hux grit through tight lips.

“Music is a much safer conversation, then,” Rose insisted and pushed the button to turn the song back on. The notes of the piano flooded the little cabin of the car, and Rose rested her cheek against the door, watching the scenery pass by. The song ended and changed to a much more somber track, one filled with a melancholic cello. It struck Rose as familiar, somehow.

“My mother loved French Impressionist music,” Hux stated out of nowhere.

Rose glanced over at him. His eyes were staring straight ahead, hands at ten and two, gloved fists clenching the leather steering wheel. He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently.

“Oh, really?” She treaded carefully forward in the conversation, not wanting to spook him.

He nodded.

They both fell silent as the cello swelled between them, pirouetting through deep, moving turns in the music. Rose thought that was all he was going to say, but he surprised her.

“She was a dancer, too.”

Two little treasures she had just received, and Rose filed them away under the important Armitage facts category in her brain. She knew, just by the fact that he had never mentioned her before, and how carefully he did so now, that his mother was someone extremely important to him. He had also said “ ** _was_** _a dancer”_ , which meant that she was either no longer living or no longer in his life. Rose didn’t think it was safe to ask that question, just yet. She had to play her cards just right.

“Ballet?” She inquired, figuring this was safe to clarify.

“Yes,” he replied, his tone wavering in strength.

“She raised you right, then,” Rose murmured with a small smile.

It had been the wrong thing to say. Hux breathed in sharply through his nose, turning his head a little away from her, and pressed lightly on a little button on the steering wheel. The audio changed from the song to the public news radio, and a man with a dry voice came on to explain the weather and driving conditions for their area of the city.

Rose chewed on the inside of her cheek impatiently. He was slowly letting her in. She’d had small victories. But for every win there was another set-back.

Her phone vibrated in her lap and she picked it up, glancing at the text message from Paige.

**WHERE ARE YOU I NEED TO SQUISH YOUR CHUBBY FACE.**

Rose read it with a fond laugh, tapping out a quick reply that she was on her way, and slid her phone into the pocket of Armitage’s jacket, glancing back over at him.

She caught him looking at her, and he looked away quickly, his ears going red.

“What?” She asked, her tone teasing.

“I-,” He shrugged slightly, pulling off the highway, prompted by the airport exit sign. 

“Just wondering who texted you.”

“My sister, Paige. She’s two years older than me and my best friend in the whole wide world,” Rose explained happily, becoming a bit of a chatterbox. “This is the longest I’ve ever been away from her, or my parents for that matter, and it’s so far away. I really can’t wait to see her.”

“Ah,” he made a soft sound of acknowledgement but said nothing more.

The car veered off, following the signs leading toward domestic arrivals. He passed the exit that led to the drop off area, however, and Rose gestured weakly toward the off-ramp with a frown.

“Armitage, you missed the-,”

“How are you going to get back?” He interrupted softly, steering the car toward the parking garage. “I’ll take you. It’s no bother.”

He could be so sweet sometimes, so considerate, so wonderful. Rose cherished the moment in her heart, feeling her entire body radiating joy and something else, something wonderful that she didn’t want to name just yet.

He parked the car and they both stepped out. Armitage became preoccupied with his windbreaker, fiddling with the zipper, so he missed Rose sliding up beside him. She placed both her hands on his raised forearm and pushed up onto her toes, placing a small, sweet peck on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

She slid behind him and began to make her way toward the stairwell in the garage, and Armitage’s hands fumbled on the zipper, his head swimming and his cheeks burning. When he managed to get it zipped up, effectively hiding his frame behind the large canvas fabric, he hurried to catch up with her, taking a few longer strides until he fell into step beside her.

He knew who her family was the moment they stepped inside the arrivals lobby. He recognized them from the pictures on her wall, though he’d only seen them twice. He had an astute memory. Her parents were shorter than her, which was saying something, her dad only half an inch shorter, her mom half a foot. They looked quite old, but sweet, and as Rose approached, they all three melted into one another, a tangle of arms and squished cheeks and tears and kisses. Armitage had to look away from the touching scene, feeling anything but touched, as a vile knot of envy and illness threatened to bubble up within him.

He had never had what Rose had. But when he was younger, he’d always wanted it.

As an adult, he told himself he didn’t need it.

“ROSE!!” A female voice shouted across the lobby, and a blur sped past him.

A very beautiful Vietnamese American young lady had just slammed into a waiting Rose, and now both girls were crying. This must be Paige, Armitage noted with curiosity, and watched as the two sisters held onto one another like they’d been reunited after a very long war, terrified that one had been lost to the other.

“I missed your stupid face,” Rose was whining as Paige pet her hair.

“I missed your stupid face, more.” Paige challenged, now squishing Rose’s cheeks between her palms.

Another young lady approached, one with warm brown skin and wild curly hair combed carefully into a pretty afro tied back with a scarf. She latched onto the sisters from the side, and Rose moved to accept her in, wrapping her arm around her waist and sucking her into the hug void.

“Jannah’s here, too,” Rose was still crying.

Hux didn’t like it when she cried. It tugged on something within him.

He buried his hands in his pockets and looked away from the scene, all of this was too intimate for him. He was just her instructor turned dance partner, here to offer them a ride to wherever they needed to be. He thought back to their moment only an hour before at the studio, the moment they’d come closer to consummating this bizarre relationship they had, but if anything worked more effectively to douse arousal, it was the reminder that she was unobtainable and he unworthy. How could he ever be what she wanted him to be when she kept reminding him that he was inadequate? She didn’t even mean to, it just happened naturally, because that was how it was. He did not deserve her.

Rose seemed to notice him again, her face betraying a slight look of concern. He must have been showing some emotion on his face, but he quickly buried it with ease behind his mask of steel.

“Everyone, this is Armitage Hux,” she pulled out of the tangle of hugs and walked toward him, holding her hand up toward him like she was a show hostess revealing a prize.

Paige’s eyes narrowed on him, taking in his tall frame with a suspicious and narrowed gaze. Her eyes flicked from his size and shape, to the coat her sister was currently dwarfed in, understanding immediately dawning on her. Rose had lied to her.

“Hey, Armitage,” Paige approached him with a hand extended.

Rose panicked slightly, bobbing around him as he took her hand and shook it.

“You-… he goes by Mr. Hux,” Rose mumbled quietly.

“It’s okay,” Armitage amended, pulling his hand away and tucking it back into his pocket. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Paige.”

Rose’s mother approached them, gazing up at him with squinted eyes behind her round glasses.

“Wow!! You’re so tall!” Mrs. Tico exclaimed.

Paige and Jannah laughed; Rose let out an embarrassed whine.

“Má,” She muttered, sliding her arm through her mother’s. “Please.”

“Who is he?” Her mother inquired with curiosity. “He’s handsome.”

Armitage, flustered beyond belief, ran a hand through his hair and pretended not to hear any of this, staring off into the distance. He noted their luggage, all gathered into a pile nearby, and turned to stalk off toward it, intent on being useful and bowing out of the scrutiny of her family.

“He’s the head instructor,” Rose explained, carefully avoiding Paige’s hawk-like stare. “And my partner in the show. We were at practice when Paige called, and he offered to take me here.”

Paige rolled her eyes and turned to glare at Armitage as he took three suitcase handles into his hands.

Rose watched as her father tried to insist he take at least one of the suitcases from Armitage’s hands. Seeing the two of them standing beside one another, Armitage towering over him, was doing things to her insides, painfully pleasant things, and she hurried over toward them to do some damage control, realizing that bringing him to meet her family before they’d even ironed out whatever this was between them hadn’t really been the best idea.

“Baba, come with me.” she took her father’s hand, giving Armitage an apologetic look, and guided him away toward the door. 

“Let Paige and Jannah help carry the luggage.”

The whole group of them moved in a pack, following Rose at the lead who walked hand in hand with her father, their fingers intertwined, her arm in her mother’s. Armitage followed behind her, carting three pieces of luggage, and behind him were Paige and Jannah with the rest.

“He’s ‘the ginger’?” Jannah whispered to Paige, both loitering behind to avoid being heard.

“Yeah, the dickhead,” Paige muttered grumpily. “I didn’t know he was her new partner.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Jannah sounded shocked. Rose and Paige were closer than close.

“Nope,” Paige glared at the back of Rose’s head. “I’ll kill her.”

“Maybe she had a good reason!” Jannah defended Rose, bumping an elbow into Paige’s side. “Don’t be too hard on her.”

Paige was about to tell Jannah just how hard she was going to be on her, but they had caught up with everyone else. Armitage was silently and stoically loading luggage into the trunk of the vehicle. Paige dumped the luggage there for him without a word of thanks and huffed past to get inside the car.

There weren’t enough seats for everyone; they were one shy. Armitage wanted to offer to pay for a cab to take them all to their hotel, he could take Rose home, but he was so flustered and out of place amongst them all that he said nothing, and merely allowed them to work it out amongst themselves. Jannah ended up sitting halfway on Paige’s lap and halfway in the crack of the seat beside Mr. Tico. They shared a seatbelt. It made Armitage anxious to both be breaking the law and endangering a life, but he accepted it wordlessly, and pulled the car out of the parking lot.

Rose stared at him for a long moment, so thankful and so soft and melted and warm by how well he was taking all of this. She wanted to take his hand, hold it, but that was impossible.

“They’re staying at the Raddus, the one a block away from the studio,” she murmured to him.

He nodded, acknowledging the necessary location, and took off in that direction. He couldn’t wait for this whole ordeal to be over.

Jannah and Paige chatted merrily in the backseat, their hands entwined, Paige’s chin resting on her shoulder. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure they were lovers, the way they clung to one another. Rose’s parents, ever the stereotypical elderly couple, took photos through the window every so often as they passed something that even remotely resembled “New York Style”.

“So, Rose,” Paige piped up from the backseat. “Why didn’t Finn drive you to pick us up?”

Rose flooded immediately with dread. She peeked over at Armitage then shifted and turned around to give her sister an emphatic warning glare.

“What do you mean?” She questioned softly.

“You’ve been seeing him, right?” Paige uttered coolly, her words resounding throughout the vehicle cabin.

Armitage’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, leather creaking softly.

“Ah,” Rose had been caught, and Paige hadn’t even been with her a full half hour yet. She knew she should have told her the truth, but it had all been so complicated.

“He’s… he’s busy. Armi-… Mr. Hux and I were practicing when you called. It was easier.”

“Well, it’s very nice for an instructor at your company to come all this way for us,” Paige bit out acerbically. “Your company must value her a lot.”

“We do,” Hux uttered quietly.

Rose flooded with shame and slight fear at the biting tone of anger in his voice. She turned to face forward in the seat, wrapping her arms around her middle and hiding her fingers in the too long sleeves of his coat.

Thankfully, Paige stayed off any further attacks the rest of the ride. They reached the hotel and Armitage pulled up into the visitor’s driveway, putting the car in park but leaving it running, the engine purring quietly. Rose got out of the car and helped her family take their luggage out of the trunk. Her mother and father both thanked Hux again before wheeling their cases into the hotel lobby. Paige did not thank him but gave Rose a meaningful glance as she took Jannah’s hand in her own and guided her into the lobby.

Rose opened the passenger door and poked her head inside.

“Thank you,” She uttered quietly.

“Get. In.” He grit out between clenched teeth.

Oh boy. Rose felt her head swoon slightly, a tingle of fear licking down her spine. She did as he told her, sliding back into the seat and closing the door behind her. The moment she’d done so, he moved the car in drive and pulled around the building, parking in a more discreet location around the side of the hotel. The engine turned off and he sat there, his hands clinging tightly to the steering wheel. Rose held her breath.

“You’re seeing Finn,” It should have come out as a question, but it was more a statement of bewildered fury.

Rose studied him, his narrowed green eyes, his tense jawline, the light color in his cheeks.

“No, I just-… I just told her I was.” Rose mumbled. She had no excuse for any of this.

“Why did you tell her you were?”

He was looking at her now, his pupils wide, engulfing the green in the dark. He was so beautiful, even jealous and seething, and Rose felt herself longing to climb over the console and into his lap, to love away his envy.

“It was a cover story,” Rose whined quietly, shrugging one shoulder. “I couldn’t tell her it was the instructor of Skywalker & Solo who’d … who’d ravished me.”

He blushed thoroughly at her choice of words. However, he still looked angry.

“That is sensible,” He offered after a moment, sounding regretful. He turned to look out the window of the vehicle.

There was so much feeling within her, so much, she wasn’t sure she could survive one moment more without touching him. She reached out, tentatively, brushing his forearm with one hand. He jumped slightly, turning sharply to glare at her.

“Armitage,” she whispered, a plea in her tone. “Kiss me…?”

“Why?” he sounded so weak and he loathed himself. Why was he so weak for her?

“I need it,” she confessed, leaning closer.

She let him lead this time, and she was so thankful she did. He kissed her like it was an act of worship, a mea culpa, his gloved hand touching timidly to her cheek, thumb grasping her chin possessively. His lips on hers were so soft, so gentle, then hungrier, pleading, as he mouthed over her bottom lip, following with a soft brush of his tongue. Every motion was a request, a prayer, begging her to be his, to heal, to love, to forgive, to bless. Rose cursed the console between them, feeling it bite into her ribs as she leaned closer, so much closer, desperate to be wrapped up in his arms. She needed more, so much more.

He pulled away.

“You should go inside,” he mumbled through swollen lips, turning to stare back out the window. “They’re likely waiting for you.”

Rose studied him, dazed and full of wanting, wishing she could find a reason to go back with him.

“Practice tomorrow?”

“Six am,” He nodded.

“I’ll see you, then,” She brushed her hand over his and turned to exit the vehicle.

Hux watched her walk away in the night, breathing slowly in and out, trying to keep his head and heart steady. When she disappeared around the corner of the building, he fired up the engine and made his way home, trying to come to terms with what was now happening to him as it pertained to her. Was this his life now, bound and beholden to her?

The next three days passed in a blur. Neither Rose nor Armitage had much time to discuss the new changes in their relationship; everything was dance. They were fitted for their final costumes, they had live run-throughs with the entire company and the live orchestra, they didn’t even have time for private lessons anymore, as company lessons naturally ran later and later. Rose barely had any time to spend with her family, but instead allowed them to have their own fun around New York City while she threw herself into her work, promising that once it came time for performances, she could give them more attention.

They were forced to practice the kiss in front of many small audiences. Rey and Ben were there the first time, when Leia ordered them to do it. The hardest part wasn’t kissing her, the hardest part was making it look like they were acting. Rey could not help but tease them, and Rose blushed charmingly, but Hux hated it, he hated it all. This hiding and sneaking and disconcerting unknowing where they stood as a couple, having to act and pretend, it was loathsome. Thankfully, due to his unsatisfactory temperament, no one suspected him of having any feelings for her.

Opening day, Rose couldn’t sleep. She found herself wishing she had saved some of the tea she’d given to Armitage, as it would have helped, but she took comfort in the fact that at least one of them would be well-rested. Their company had completely sold-out all tickets. Her family would be sitting in one of the balcony boxes, a great view of her very first ballet performance.

Rose lay in bed a very long time, crying softly to herself. This felt like a dream, all of it, being born on the wings of a dream that had carried her here to New York. Never, in all of her hopes and wishes, could she have anticipated that she’d be dancing lead in her very first ever performance. She’d thought she would be scared, terrified, nauseous. But Rose could not wait. She couldn’t wait to paint the stage with her motions, to light up the performance hall with her expression and movement. She couldn’t wait to do it all with Armitage.

The hours passed at a snail’s pace, and Rose was so impatient. She spent them at the studio, stretching and warming up, nothing more, Rey at her side, giving her tips and pointers for what to expect for her first stage performance.

Three hours prior to showtime, she sat in the prima ballerina’s greenroom backstage at the dance hall. Rey pulled Rose’s hair up into little twists, two soft buns, wrapping them in ropes of pearls and little star-shaped hair clips, leaving two small curled tendrils beside her ears to add a youthful touch. She helped her apply her makeup, as well, done dramatically for the purpose of the stage. Her eyes were hooded and heavy with a light gray color spattered with silver glitter, wing-tipped liner flying wide off the side to make her eyes appear bigger, and she wore a small set of false lashes, for youthful innocence. Her cheeks rouged, her lips painted a soft pink, Rose watched herself transform into a different sort of beauty and felt trembles of excitement radiate through her.

Hair and makeup finished, Rey helped her dress herself in her first costume: an all-white gown, with luscious tufts of long tulle that ended at her knees. The bodice was beaded and sparkly, cut with a sweetheart neckline at her bosom and draping up into loose, billowing sleeves of satin that fluttered over her arms in a flattering way. Rose studied herself in the mirror, feeling every bit the princess she always thought she might, living the dream she’d striven for almost her entire life.

“Merde,” Rey whispered, kissing Rose on the cheek, meaning she wished her a packed audience and a beautiful performance.

“Thank you,” Rose’s bottom lip trembled as she became emotional. “For everything… I don’t know why you picked me, but I’ll forever be grateful.”

“I’m recording your performance tonight,” Rey stated with a wink. “Then you’ll _know_ why I picked you.”

Thirty minutes until the curtain was drawn. Rose stood in the dark wings of the stage, peeking out through the curtain, searching for her family. She was trying to breathe regularly, in and out, focusing on the feeling of the rise and fall of her shoulders.

“Rose,”

She turned at the sound of Armitage’s voice. She hadn’t seen him all day, nor even heard from him. He approached her in the dark, his features lit up only by the small sliver of light coming through from the crack in the curtain. Rose’s heart thudded heavily in her chest.

He looked so beautiful, it hurt to breathe. His long legs were encased in white leggings, every lightly toned muscle easily displayed, the curve between his legs surprisingly obviously present, which she noted with a warm blush. He wore a loose white tunic, the arms billowing wide and ending at tapered points at his wrists, the collar tall against his throat but open. She could see the curve of his collarbone, the dip of the hollow at the base of his throat, a little tease of the chest that extended beneath. Gilded silver and sparkling sequins spread over the expanse of the tunic, matching the little gleam of silver eyeshadow someone had smeared over his eyes, along with a smudge of dark liner to make them stand out on stage. His hair was looser than normal, brushed into a softer coif off to the side. She found herself wanting to ravish him, this dancing prince, but knew if she dared disturb his hair and makeup, she’d be in trouble.

She allowed the curtain to close behind her as she rushed to him, her fingertips touching his arm. He studied her with a vulnerable expression, and she could feel him shaking beneath her touch, as if he were freezing cold or terrified.

“What’s wrong?” She whispered in the dark.

He did not speak, but placed a gloved hand carefully on her waist, pulling her slowly into him. Surprised, she slowly wrapped her arms around his waist, knowing then that something was horribly wrong. The only time Armitage ever let her touch him like this was in dancing. He was mostly off-limits otherwise.

Her heart burned as he rested his chin on her head, feeling him tremble in her arms. He said nothing, just held her close to him, a soft, long-winded sigh leaving his parted lips as if he’d been needing this all day long.

“Armitage…?” She questioned softly.

“I can’t do this,” He admitted, eyes closed, jaw clenched tight. “All those people… I can’t do this, Rose.”

“Hey,” she retorted back with a biting tone, pulling away from him and resting her hands on his upper arms. “Look at me.”

He lowered his head and slowly opened his eyes, staring at her with a tremor of fear.

She straightened the collar of his tunic, making sure the long, undone laces were laying correctly, then brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders, keeping all her touches light and easy, as he flinched under each and every one. 

“This is no different than just dancing with me,” She told him, finding his hands and holding them in hers as she gave him a warm smile. “Don’t dance for them… dance for me. I will be in the wings watching you the whole time. I promise. I’m your audience. You’ve already done it so many times for me. What’s one more?”

“But the crowd-,”

“No,” Rose uttered emphatically. “There is no crowd. Just me.”

Hux studied her genuine expression, his heart ramming hard in his chest, trying desperately to believe her, to trust her, to have faith in her. He couldn’t help but feel like his father was one of the faceless people sitting out in that crowd, waiting to judge him, to find him wanting, and to punish him for all his faults and failures.

He winced as she placed a palm, slowly and carefully, tenderly, over his rapidly beating heart.

“Armitage,” She whispered, so close now. “It’s just me.”

“Just you,” He finally agreed. His forehead touched hers and she sighed with relief.

The lights of the stage were bright and hot. Armitage felt himself sweating underneath his outfit as he promenaded out onto the stage with the other Montague characters. The flashes of shapeless, formless people in the crowd did nothing for his anxiety, rather spiked it higher and higher as memories of his father, larger than life, banging down his door, dragging him from the room kicking and screaming, desperate to fight for his dignity, clawed at his brain. He moved through the motions, slowly, bit by bit, trying to come to terms with his mind and reason with it, rationalizing the terror away.

None of it worked. But as he spun on his toes, holding his arms and legs at angles of perfection, he spotted her, a glimmer of shining white hope off-stage, waiting in the wings, her face beaming with support and loving encouragement.

She was his only audience.

The more he told himself that, the more he believed it. He gained confidence, speed, and prowess. Rosaline tempted him, flirtatiously calling Romeo to find her, and he followed, Rose ever present in the back of his mind as he played his part well.

The lights fell and the curtain drew. The sets changed.

He hurried off-set, drenched with cold sweat, and as he passed her in the sea of teeming dancers, their hands brushed, her eyes meeting his with so much warmth, and he trembled from head to toe at the power of her.

“That was so wonderful,” she breathed to him, before prancing onto the stage to take her place behind one of the props, ready to introduce herself in her first solo as Juliet to the audience.

He tried not to feel undeserving of her compliments, but it was still too hard. The most he could accept was that he wouldn’t fuck this up, not for her. He would get through the show, as shitty as it would be, for her, so that she could shine, she could have her well-deserved and perfectly earned moment. This was all for her.

The audience adored her. She was so bright, a brilliant star burning across the stage, playfully and cheerfully showing the transformation of Juliet from young blushing girl to grown-up loving young woman. Her dance moves were so pristine, so perfect, Hux felt himself falling for her all over again, like the first time he had seen her video. Her power was immense, precise, rigorously immaculate in all ways. She was the most beautiful and perfect dancer he had ever seen.

He did allow himself to swell with pride at this notion, knowing that she was this talented in part due to his help.

Time passed in short blips between sets. Backstage crew handed them bottles of water and towels to dab away sweat from their faces, and before either of them knew it, it was time for the pas de deux.

Rose stood on the rigged balcony, concealed behind a prop made to look like a tall tower. She clenched her hands over and over, breathing deeply in and out, every inch of her skin yearning to feel his touch, to fulfill this dance with him. She met his gaze down on the stage floor through the faux window. He gave her a very light ghost of a smile.

Rose nearly fainted from the joy of it.

The curtain parted. The lights burned on them. The crowd applauded their approval.

Romeo beckoned Juliet down, calling her with strong pulls of his arms, spinning in place to impress her, his figure proud and elegant. Juliet fawned over him, her hands pressed to her face, and she turned. Rose quickly took the concealed steps down from the balcony and appeared from around the side, rising onto her toes in pointe, arms spread wide like wings, and she tiptoed toward him while he waited, watching with bated breath.

The music shifted, and she leaped around him, both of them pacing around one another, sizing one another up. She flit toward him, he caught her around her waist, and she flit away again, teasingly.

Her eyes met his and he smiled again. It was Romeo, surely, not Armitage, smiling at her, but it was so beautiful her world nearly imploded on itself due to the swell of happiness within her.

The music changed again. She ran to him, throwing herself into his arms with wild abandon, her skirts flying behind her. He caught her, spinning her in his hold, raising her with extreme ease to lift her onto his shoulder, and she fell easily into her pose of pleasured happiness, bound aloft by her Romeo. He lowered her, and she caressed him with her body all the way down, lighting on her toes, bending her leg back into perfect arabesque.

He eyed her teasingly. She’d always had trouble with this move. Not anymore.

The world had vanished around them in their enjoyment of one another. The crowd watched, a sea of breathless bodies holding on for one more scene of beauty, one more glimpse into this intimate world of two dancers. 

The dance was coming to an end. Romeo pranced around her, confident, his legs tearing powerfully through the air, shoulders upright with strength and dignity, as he turned toward her, reaching for her. She came to him, beckoned by the call of his love, and he turned her on pointe, the perfect partner, three full revolutions, until she came down against him. He dipped her to the floor, supported her as if she were weightless, and the audience gasped softly in surprise, before he pulled her back up into his arms.

He kissed her, so tenderly, turning her in the moves of their dance, and Juliet caressed his face. They pulled apart, pausing with the music, their chests rising and falling in time together.

Rose kissed her palms and gestured toward him with a large smile, then turned and pranced shyly back toward the balcony, stopping once to glance back at him with an endearing look.

He showed off for her, leaping through the air, legs sharp as knives as they cut through nothing and landed once again on stage with perfect balance.

Juliet blushed, and disappeared once more into her tower.

Romeo grabbed his shirt over his heart, sinking slightly forward as if she had consumed it whole from his chest, then pranced his joyful way off stage.

The audience roared.

An hour later, the show had ended. The backstage area was teeming with dancers and crew members, family and friends with arms full of roses to support their representative dancers in the company. The leads, Romeo and Juliet, were nowhere to be found.

Hux had his gloved hands on her ass, pulling her against him as he ground into her through their costumes. She was wrapped around him, all legs and arms, lapping at his throat and sucking softly on his flesh there, making good on her intention to mark him. As soon as the show had ended, they’d snuck off together to hide in her green room, avoiding the praise and glory they should be reveling in to instead take joy in one another.

He could barely stand how all over him she was, his skin crawling with the urgency of her touch. It hurt, it hurt so badly, but he accepted the pain, his need overcoming all urges to play this safe, to take it slow.

He pressed her into the wall and one palm ghosted over her breast, massaging deep against her nipple. She sighed out his name and bit down on his throat. He twitched against her.

Someone was knocking at the door.

She whined in soft protest as he started to disentangle himself from her. Her arms latched around his throat, pulling him back, and she kissed him greedily, moaning quietly against his lips.

“Rose?” It was Paige’s voice coming through the door. “Are you in there?”

“Fuck, Paige,” Rose growled, tearing her mouth from his.

Armitage let his head fall against the wall over her shoulder, gasping for breath, cursing anything and everything responsible for gifting him with this heavenly creature and always taking her away from him. His cock twitched and he ground into her once more, without thinking. Rose jerked against him and bit her lip to keep from crying out, giving him a severely disappointed look.

“I have to go,” She murmured, brushing a tendril of hair out of his eyes. “They’re taking me to dinner to celebrate.”

“I understand,” He uttered softly, even if he hated it. “It’s for the best.”

He pulled away, lowering her to the floor, and they both turned from the other, straightening their hair and their clothing.

“I’ll leave first, then?” She questioned softly.

He nodded, avoiding her gaze, his fists clenched at his side.

“Alright…” She whispered, giving him one last, wishful look. “I’ll see you.”

“See you,” he responded quietly.

She left and Armitage felt as if the light had gone from his world. 


	12. Préparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TXT from Rose: **I want to see you.**  
>  TXT from Hux: **I'm on my way.**
> 
> Rose and Hux finally get some time alone together, and they start work on tearing down the walls between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter (and the chapter to follow) contains some of the more explicit tags listed. PLEASE READ THE TAGS CAREFULLY. And enjoy. 😘
> 
> Thanks to [@HellyJellyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/pseuds/Hellyjellybean) and [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26) for being amazing Betas, so fast and so fabulous! 🌹
> 
> Thanks to [ @ElfMaidenOfLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight) and [@Wydja2](https://twitter.com/Wydja2) for helping me muse through Hux/Rose headcanons. 🌹
> 
> Chapter title Préparation comes from [this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/), meaning "preparation". It's described as preparing for a ballet move, but this chapter is 100% preparation for something exciting and wonderful to come. 👀

The Tico’s and Jannah ate together at a New York style pizza joint that had been specifically engineered for the joy of tourists coming to the city for the experience. Her parents had picked the place, one item on a list of many that they wanted to do while in NYC, and Rose had happily agreed, just wanting to get the evening over with. It had been difficult, getting out of the dancehall unnoticed, feeling as she did.

All she wanted to do was spend more time with Armitage.

Yet here she was, dressed in yoga pants and a red sweater, her hair damp from a quick shower, a long line of cheese connecting her lips to the piece of greasy, thin-crust pizza she held precariously in two hands. She laughed as it broke off and slapped her in the chin, dropping the slice of pizza to her plate and dabbing the sauce off her face with a napkin.

“Messy as always,” Paige chided warmly.

“You know it,” Rose tried to joke, wanting to be her normal, chipper self.

Paige noticed she wasn’t. Which was why, when Rose excused herself to go to the restroom, Paige followed her. Knowing that Rose hated to talk to people while she peed, a sentiment Paige did not share, she stepped around Rose inside the bathroom to block her from entering a stall, her hands resting on Rose’s shoulders.

“Why did you lie to me?”

Rose sighed heavily.

“Do we have to have this conversation here?”

“It’s important to me,” Paige frowned, pulling her hands away. Rose had never been this obstinate before. “You’ve never lied to me. At least, not about important things.”

“Maybe this isn’t important.”

“Were you with him tonight?” Paige was so intuitive, Rose really hated it. “In the green room… was he in there with you?”

Rose’s cheeks blazed. She looked away from her, pointedly. Paige had her answer.

“Rose, can you just tell me one thing?”

“What?”

Paige studied her sister’s face for a long moment, giving her a genuine look of concern.

“I’ll be honest, he’s fucking hot,” Paige uttered with stark frankness. “But everything you’ve told me about him screams ‘run the other way’. Especially the fact that you felt the need to lie to me!”

“I felt the need to lie-,” Rose broke off as someone in a stall flushed a toilet. A stranger exited to wash their hands, and Rose continued.

“I felt the need to lie because he’s my instructor, and I didn’t know what to say,” She bit her lip, shrugging slightly. “He’s… He’s actually quite sweet and kind when he wants to be, and he’s an amazing dancer. He’s strong, and caring and warm and-,”

“Broken?” Paige interjected.

Rose thought momentarily that Paige would one day make a fine psychologist.

“Yeah, so?”

“You can’t fix him, Rose,” Paige uttered with a deep frown. “People have to fix themselves.”

Rose breathed in heavily through her nose and out through barely parted lips, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know that,” She tapped a toe impatiently, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “But I’m… drawn to him. Like you said on the phone, when you thought it was Finn, use him-,”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Paige inquired sharply. “Will you use, abuse, then lose him?”

Rose was terrified of the answer to that question, so she didn’t say it. Every fiber of her being was screaming no, she would never do that to such a wounded bird as he. But Paige had a point. Rose could see how she might worry if the situation were reversed, and Paige were the one falling for someone like Hux.

“I just want you to be careful,” Paige murmured softly. “Protect your heart.”

“Yeah, well I need to grow up sometime, right?”

“What does that mean?!”

Rose grit her teeth with irritation and moved to slide around Paige, her bladder insistent.

“I have to pee,” Rose murmured through tight lips. 

“Move.”

Paige obliged. Back at the dinner table, Rose was silent and relatively sullen the rest of the meal. She finished her pizza dutifully and smiled whenever any of her family members addressed or spoke to her, but overall looked rather glum. Paige kicked Rose underneath the table.

“Text him,” she ordered.

“What?” Rose glanced over at her parents to see if they were listening. They were sleepily staring at one of the television screens on the wall, displaying a sports game.

“Text him and tell him you want to see him,” Paige insisted.

Rose’s cheeks burned.

“I-… I can’t do that. He-… he hates-,” Rose broke off, warring between excited hope and insecure unknowing.

“If you text him and he’s an asshole about it, you have your answer. But if you text him and he’s sweet or whatever… like you said, then you have a better one,” Paige explained carefully in a low murmur. “And no matter what my feelings are, you are a woman with needs and you deserve to get some D, sweetie.”

“Oh my god,” Rose moaned, so hot all over she thought she might turn to ash in her seat. 

“Paige!”

Paige just gave her a naughty smirk, her tongue pinched between her teeth, and winked.

“I look out for my lil sis.”

After dinner, they took a taxi from the restaurant back to their hotel. Her father paid the taxi driver to go a little bit farther and take Rose to her dorm, and they parted ways with hugs and kisses for the night. Her parents told Rose how proud of her they were, how much of a beautiful dancer she had become, how she had blown them away with her talent and skill. Rose melted with love and warmth for them. She kissed them all goodnight, then got into the taxicab.

Her phone was in her lap. She stared at it. Her stomach roiled with butterflies. What would he do? How would he respond?

**I want to see you.**

Rose was scared, so scared as she waited for him to see the text, to read this little wish, this little hope of hers. She was taking a step over a line, a new line they could never cross back over, without even any confirmation that he would be willing to accept. But she knew she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t try, at least.

The taxi arrived at the dorms and she still hadn’t received a response. Driven mad with nerves, she hurried up the stairs to her room, determined to get into some comfortable pajamas and stay below her covers with shame and embarrassment her only companions forevermore. As she entered her dorm room, vaguely wondering if the kitchen downstairs was stocked with any ice cream, her phone pinged with a notification sound.

Rose’s heart thudded to a stop as she raised it to read the text.

**Where are you?**

Her thumbs were not quite working right, she was trembling so much. She stumbled over the keyboard on her phone, having to delete the basic message so many times just from nerves fucking up her spelling.

**The dorms. Kaydel isn’t here.**

The reply came almost immediately.

**I’m on my way.**

Rose felt a shudder of glee rumble from her head down to her toes and back, and she covered her mouth with one hand, making a small, muffled shriek of excitement, stamping her feet on the floor. She fled to the bathroom, then, combed through her hair and fluffed it out for volume, brushed her teeth, dabbed on a bit of makeup and perfume, then hurried to her closet to decide what she should wear. As she mused through clothing options, she caught sight of his coat laying over the back of her desk chair. She’d never returned it. That gave her an idea.

Five minutes later she was downstairs, exiting the backside of the dormitory. She couldn’t wait for him there; she didn’t want him to come up. If this was going to go the way she wanted it to, she didn’t want their first time to be in her shitty dorm room on her teeny, tiny mattress. Just thinking about it filled her with nervous fire, so she tried to avoid the topic point-blank in her mind as she hurried through the park and toward the gate by the front of the dance studio. He’d have to drive past the studio to get to the dorms, and she was hoping he’d see her.

Five more minutes passed. It was cold. Rose was thankful she’d decided to wear her tights tonight. She nestled into Hux’s coat, sniffled a little in the chill biting at her nose, and pulled out her phone, intending to call him. But as she unlocked it, her thumb hovering over the contacts, a sleek black vehicle pulled up to the curb.

Rose tucked her phone in the pocket of his coat, breathless with excitement.

The driver side door opened, and Armitage stepped out, all long legs and elegantly limber limbs. He was dressed in a dark emerald slim fit suit, the color made his eyes pop wildly green, with a thin black tie and black wingtips.

They stared at one another across the sidewalk for a long moment. Rose felt like she might pass out from lack of breathing. He looked so handsome, so tall, so beautiful.

“Hello,” He uttered softly, pulling something from within the car. His lips were pressed thin, his eyes nervous, darting from her to the ground and back, as he approached her slowly with an outstretched hand. In it was a small bouquet of red roses.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but his voice caught in his throat a little and he hesitated, turning his face away from her as it burned bright red.

Rose accepted the bouquet from him, holding it cradled in both arms, and she crossed the distance between them.

“Are these for my performance?”

“Yes,” He managed, clearing his throat and coming back to himself a bit. “It is… tradition to gift roses to the lead in a show. Especially if she has done so well.”

Rose inhaled their soft, floral scent, heart hammering madly within her. She ventured into the bouquet then, picking a rose by the stem and snapping it in half, pulling the short-stemmed flower away. She leaned into him and tucked the stem into his breast pocket, making certain it was buried deep.

“You are also a lead. And I could not have done so well without your instruction, sir.”

Oh, how he was looking at her, like he wanted to swallow her whole. Rose had never felt so needy in her entire life.

“Why are you so dressed up?” Rose ventured when he did not speak.

“Afterparty with the company,” He explained, straightening his tie. He wasn’t wearing his gloves. “You were missed. It is… still going on if you want to go.”

“No,” Rose replied almost immediately, shaking her head. “I want to-,”

“Do you want to… come with-?” Hux couldn’t seem to bring himself to say it.

“Go home with you?” Rose finished for him, breathless. “Yes.”

Hux clenched his jaw and his hands, seeming to restrain himself from something. His expression and body language were giving off so many different readings and behaviors, his mercurial nature off the charts from nerves. In his head, so many thoughts ran through his brain like scurrying spiders: self-doubt, self-loathing, self-deprecation. He did not deserve her, did not deserve this, it was wrong, unethical, an abuse of power. They had already been interrupted so many times. Perhaps it was fate warning him to take care; keep away: the rose has thorns.

As if perceiving his anxiety, Rose did not give him a chance to back down, but stepped into him, pressing herself gently against his chest, her fingers playing with his tie. His breath caught in his throat, ragged and harsh, and he stiffened at her touch. He did not touch her back.

“Please?” She looked up into his eyes, whispering a genuine plea.

Ten minutes later he was unlocking his condo for her, sidestepping in the foyer to allow her within. All of this felt so surreal to him. He had never brought a lover to his home, not once, but that wasn’t what she was, exactly. Even Hux, who felt undeserving of love and affection, could recognize that she should not be cheapened by his own insecurities. Whatever happened tonight, he would hold her in the highest regard. He would exalt her as the angel she was to him.

“It’s so… clean,” Rose remarked the moment she stepped inside. She took in the modern design of the place, sleek black marble countertops in the kitchen, white cabinets, a wall of windows at the back of the building covered in long blackout curtains. An ice-blue sofa in the center of the living area was long, plush, and deep, running catty corner to a black mantle fireplace. Rose noted, with a hint of sorrow, that there were no pictures on the walls, no decoration, not even art. They were blank, devoid of anything that did not have a function. While the color schemes were nice, rather soothing, this was not a home. It was just a place filled with things.

Rose kicked off her converse, thinking it would be the polite thing to do for someone like Hux, who liked things so clean and orderly. She even took the time to line them up carefully along the wall, when normally she’d just leave them helter-skelter. She turned to give Hux a smile as she did so and gestured with the hand holding the roses.

“Can we put these in some water?”

He nodded, leading her into the kitchen. He retrieved a tall glass jar from under the sink, filled it with water, and watched as Rose separated the roses and placed them in the jar, one by one, with loving care.

“Why did you want to come here?” He asked her as she worked.

“You know why,” Rose said shyly.

“I don’t,” he uttered truthfully, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t understand.”

Rose studied him for a long moment. She wasn’t sure how to best get through to him. She’d tried talking to him. She’d tried dancing with him. She’d tried seducing him, in her own awkward way. Everything worked in some small way, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to take bigger steps, bigger leaps. She wanted to have him, own him, and be owned in return.

She finished arranging the roses and paused, hands on the edge of the counter, then turned to face him.

“I want you, Armitage.” She confessed, wondering how he would take its meaning: lust or love. But this explanation would have to suffice for now. There wasn’t time for further talk of feelings. 

Hux understood lust and desire. He’d felt them before, never on this level, but in some capacity. Humans had needs. But what he did not understand was someone having those feelings about him. With past sexual encounters, it had made sense, because he had used lust to his advantage, manipulated it to get what he wanted, always making sure there were no feelings crossing into sex. He kept his clothes on, only displaying what was necessary. Kissing was strictly off limits. Nothing was personal.

He wasn’t sure how to approach this with Rose.

She looked at him with utter trust and adoration. It scared him so much.

“There are some... rules,” Hux began carefully, turning from her and walking into the living area. He looked around momentarily for Millicent but figured she would remain hidden until Rose was gone. She didn’t take too kindly to strangers.

“Rules?” Rose asked, mild trepidation and doubt apparent in her voice.

He sank onto the sofa, one arm sprawled along the back, one ankle crossed over his knee, gazing up at her expectantly. He waited to continue until she crossed the room and sank onto the sofa beside him, a safe foot of space between them.

“I don’t… do intimacy,” Hux said carefully, trying to explain with as much accuracy and decency as possible.

“I pretty much figured that.” Rose raised a hand and flexed it, signifying ‘gloves’.

Hux suddenly felt a desire to smile. He swallowed it stiffly down.

“So, what… you’re gonna blindfold me and wrap me in plastic wrap so we don’t come into contact?” Rose joked.

He did smile then, he couldn’t help it, but it vanished quickly as he shook his head.

“No, no,” He shifted slightly on the sofa, meeting her gaze. “I will… say what I’m going to do to you. If you like it, you say ‘yes’...”

Rose raised a brow at him, her cheeks turning a dark red. “You want me to… to _approve_ the things you want to do to me?”

Hux nodded, thankful he always kept this place so damn cold, or else he’d have to start removing his tie.

Rose was starting to feel uneasy. She had thought coming over here meant she’d get to sleep with him, sure, but this was starting to sound like some long winded contract type thing. She should have known nothing with Hux would be so simple or easy. But Rose was not a quitter and she refused to back down. She was going to get what she came for no matter how many curve balls Hux tried to throw at her. 

“Fine. Shoot. What would you do to me?” She uttered bravely, her stomach turning a million loops within her.

“I’ll tie you up,” He stated immediately. Rose’s eyes widened. He continued.

“Your arms behind your back, or out, so you cannot touch me. I feel safe this way.”

Rose stared at him, her blood coursing through her like white water rapids, her heart hammering so heavily in her chest she could feel it. His hand lay on the sofa between them, so close. She swallowed.

“Okay. And…. And then what?” 

“Is it really okay?” He emphasized, shifting a little closer, piercing her with slightly narrowed eyes. “You must be honest with me, Rose.”

Rose thought about it. If it didn’t hurt too badly, she figured it would be okay.

“Not too tight.”

“Okay,” Hux agreed with a firm nod. “I tie you up, not too tight, and I undress you. I touch you.”

“Gloves or no gloves?” Rose was finding it hard to focus now. She kept glancing down at his hands. Her body still remembered how they felt on her, and the anticipation of his touch was revving her up again. 

“Both. Gloves first, then, as I get comfortable, they come off. Or at least that’s the idea.”

Rose took a deep breath, her head spinning.

“And then what?”

Their eyes met, and Hux’s gaze lit with a spark of excitement, one like Rose had never seen before in him. As they talked out this future scene between the two of them, he was finding it easier and easier to mold and accept their eventual intimacy. His eyes were starting to take on the same hungry look as hers. It made Rose shiver all over.

“Then,” Hux ran his eyes down her form under his coat, stopping where the ends rested on her thighs.

“I want to feast on you.”

Rose couldn’t help the little whimper that left her, but she did control it with a bite to her lip. His words alone, in his low, dulcet voice, were bringing her to the brink. This was the strangest foreplay she had ever taken part in. If she thought about it too hard, she would get embarrassed, so she focused on the fact that it was Armitage, her fucking hot dance partner with the pretty green eyes, the broken heart, and the wonderful personality buried underneath piles of stone and rubble. She had come here to be with him, to have him, and she was determined to do so.

“Yes,” she said, acknowledging her consent, though somewhat flustered.

“Good,” Hux let out a deep breath, then stood to his feet and began to head toward the dark hallway at the back of the condo. “We need to designate safe words, just in case. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Wait,” Rose stood as well, following him, and he stopped, turning to look back at her.

“What about… about you? What about… p-… penetration?” She felt way too vanilla for all of this. What was she doing here?! Surely, he was going to laugh at her.

He didn’t, though, just studied her face with a slightly sad look in his eyes.

“I suppose,” He murmured softly, seeming reluctant. “With… with clothes on, I can do that for you.”

“For _me?”_ Rose frowned deeply and approached him. He seemed wary of her as she did so. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” He shook his head, then started to turn away again.

She reached out and grabbed his hand. He froze, his bare palm tensed in hers. She’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing gloves and cursed softly, dropping it like a hot potato.

“I _want_ you to be pleased, too.”

Hux did not turn back to look at her as he replied.

“Okay. Clothes on… I can do that for you.”

“Clothes off.”

He turned sharply toward her, then, his eyes wild. He shook his head.

“No, I cannot-,”

“Our first time will be clothes off. It doesn’t have to be tonight.” 

Rose wasn’t sure where this strength was coming from. Her voice sounded so clear and normal, surprising even herself. “But when you’re inside me for the first time, I want to feel you all around me, all over me.”

Hux shook his head slowly, his expression now quite morose and melancholy. “Rose, I-… I don’t think,”

“It’s the thought of me touching you, right?” She stepped closer toward him, into his space. “Then let me experiment… trust me.”

“Experiment?”

Rose studied his mistrusting green eyes, his mouth and jaw clamped shut tight, and her heart broke into a million pieces. This man was so broken, so hurt, so jaded by something or someone. She couldn’t stand it. She wanted to help him break free from his chains.

“After your… after you’ve finished with me,” she began, trying to keep her voice level. “I tie _you_ up.”

Hux saw immediately where she was going with this. He did not think it a good idea, right off the bat, but he was curious enough to know where she might take it. So, he let her run with it for a while.

“Okay,” he consented, hesitant.

Rose’s heart skipped. She hadn’t expected him to agree.

“Uh… I… I tie you up and … to the bed. Yeah. And I undress you, carefully.”

Hux glanced down at his suit, his shoes, his large pale hands, then up at her. A voice in his head told him to stop now, cease this ridiculousness, let her leave. She’d surely leave in the morning, anyway, after a night of his weirdness, his disapproval of intimacy. But months of dancing with her, training her, being drawn in by her bubbly cheerfulness, his trust in her had increased. He ignored the voice of doubt.

“Carefully, yes,” He agreed, a bizarre mixture of tentative fear and blatant arousal battling for supremacy of his emotional state. He forced himself to step closer to her. 

“And how would you touch me?”

“More carefully,” Rose reached out a hand toward him, letting it hover over his clothed chest, her palm itching to touch him. 

“Slowly, and if it’s too much you’ll say… safewords.”

“Green for good, yellow for slow, red for stop,” he stated suddenly. “And you’d have to. Stop. Immediately.”

That was easy enough to remember. Rose smiled softly, examining him. She let her fingertips brush against his chest. He tensed but did not order her away.

“Yes, of course I would. Of course.”

“Is that all?” he asked her, his voice breathless and quiet with need. 

Rose was surprised to recognize it, though it was tainted with pain. She wanted to love him so badly, to fix this aversion he had to intimacy, to give him a world of joy. Her fingers slid up his chest, and as they did so, he inhaled slowly through his nose, his eyes darkening, torso tensing. 

“I’ll take care of you,” She wet her lips with her tongue, feeling a dull, aching throb between her legs from the way he was now looking at her. “In whatever way you can take. Do you accept?”

He considered it for a while, wondering if she knew the exact nature of the thing she was asking him to do, offering to do. He wasn’t sure he’d feel comfortable enough to do this, but he did trust her to back off if he asked her. He did trust her to treat him well and he knew he wanted her. He wanted her bad enough to try.

“I accept.”

His bedroom was spacious and cool, both in temperature and color scheme. The carpets were a plush gray, the walls a clean white, and he had few furnishings, no decorations in here, either. The central focus of the room was an enormous king-sized bed with an industrial wrought iron headboard, decorated with a black down comforter and many silky looking decorative pillows. There were two bedside tables, a lamp and alarm clock, a television on a dresser, and a high back leather chair in the corner. Through a door in the back of the room, she could see an enormous bathroom: black tile, chrome finishing. Everything seemed nice and expensive, but clinical and cold.

She stood in the center of the room, her hands shaking a little, staring at his massive bed. She wondered what the sheets felt like. Were they soft and warm in this cool room? Would they be soothing or scratchy against her bare skin? She wondered vaguely if she’d get to find out, seeing as this visit was already going differently than she’d originally planned.

He reemerged from his walk-in closet, a long span of black silk rope in his hands. Rose eyed it with a combination of nerves and excitement, stuffing her fidgeting hands deep in the pockets of his coat. She felt her phone there and held the button to turn it off. She wanted no interruptions tonight.

Hux tossed the coils of rope onto the bed and bent over at one of the bedside tables, rummaging around inside for something. When he straightened, he approached her with something soft-looking and pink in his hand.

Her scarf. Rose bloomed, pink in her cheeks.

“A few more things,” He murmured as he approached her, coming to a still just before her, his eyes examining hers. “While you are tied up, I expect absolute obedience and open communication. This shouldn’t be too dangerous, but it could be uncomfortable. This only works if I have your complete and undeniable trust. Is that understood?”

Rose pondered this concept for a moment, her mind dissecting their history up until now. She thought of the moment when she’d first realized that she trusted him to catch her, to never let her fall, to hold her up in their pas de deux. He had been so dependable, so strong, so capable, so comforting. She flooded with warmth at these thoughts, and any reservations or nerves she had up until this moment about completing this activity with him fluttered away. He was her partner. She would trust him implicitly. 

“Okay, I can do that.”

Rose’s head swam with thoughts and feelings as he loomed closer, sliding behind her. She trembled at the feel of his chest brushing at her shoulder, his height towering over her, but not imposing. His fingertips brushed her neck as he moved her hair aside and she shivered as cool silk wrapped around her throat. He tied it off into a bow, then pressed the barest of kisses to the shell of her ear.

“What are the safe words?” he asked in a whisper.

“Red means stop. Yellow, slow down. Green… go on,” Rose replied breathlessly.

“Then I think we’re ready.”

Flooded with nervous excitement, Rose watched as he removed his green suit jacket, folded it carefully and lay it on top of the dresser, then rolled up the white sleeves of his button up shirt.

“Remove my coat now, if you please.”

Rose blushed softly. She’d forgotten about the coat, this beautiful, damned coat, and what she was wearing underneath. She swallowed thickly, undoing the buttons at the front with trembling fingers. This room was so cold, she was afraid to lose the warmth of it so quickly, the protection it provided her. With a shift of rustling fabric, it fell from her frame, and she caught it on her wrists, pulling it off and turning to hand it to him, not meeting his eyes.

She could hear his breath catch in his throat and flooded with pride and desire.

Rose didn’t have a lot of seductive clothing; it wasn’t typically her style. Sweatpants and booty shorts and t-shirts were her favorite lounge clothes. But she did have a few sets of lingerie she was proud of, and as a ballerina she owned lots of skimpy practice clothes, so she’d improvised. She stood before him in white tights and a high-waisted, scarlet and see-through ballet skirt, one that barely covered anything as was the norm, but without the presence of a leotard, the effect was changed somewhat, as the vague outline of her bright red lace panties could be seen underneath, if one looked closely enough. Her top was not a top at all, but a matching lacey red bralette that tied in the front in a soft red bow, made for easy access and removal.

Too shy to meet his gaze, Rose held her chin and head proudly while he slowly accepted the coat from her and tossed it, distractedly, onto the leather chair.

That wasn’t a very Hux-like thing to do, to just toss his coat willy-nilly. She had affected him. It gave Rose the bravery she needed to meet his gaze.

He was blown away and he looked it, eyes fiery with wild delight as he realized she really had come here with one intention and one only: to seduce him. And damn if it wasn’t working so well.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” He mumbled softly, rounding her slowly, drinking her in with his gaze. Her lightly tan skin extended beneath red lace and tulle, smooth and supple, soft looking. He could see just a peek of her belly button just above the hemline of the skirt, and the rounded shape of her breasts, born aloft by red lace. The entire effect worked to bring about his immediate arousal.

“Do you… really think so?” Rose questioned, hoping to hear words of praise. She so longed for him to find her beautiful.

But Hux was a patient man. He liked to take his time with things that intrigued him. He did not answer right away, but approached her slowly, pressing his fingertips to his mouth as he ran his eyes over and over her form, taking his sweet time.

Rose blushed, watching him with bated breath.

“Rose, you are exquisite.”

That was quite a nice word. Rose couldn’t help the beaming smile that came to her lips. She lowered her head shyly, shuffling her stockinged feet on the carpet.

He was standing beside the bed now, watching her with a hooded gaze that did not hide his lust.

“Come here, petal.”

Her brain was a scrambled mess, jumbled thoughts running in repetitive patterns in her mind, preening under these delicious terms of endearment. She approached him on light feet, her head spinning, and her stomach lurched with anticipation as he reached for one of the ropes on the bed.

“Your hand, please.”

She extended her right hand toward him. He did not take it, but instead looped the inside end of the rope around her thumb. The rope was soft to the touch, but stiff, thick enough to keep a knot in place. He began to loop the cords around her palm then, weaving back and forth, over the back of her hand, crossing her palm, and again the same over and over.

“This is called a braided cuff tie,” he explained as he worked, his voice lost in fascinated wonder. “When complete, the knot will be on your palm, allowing you to grip it and hold on, tug it, flex your hands. It will hopefully be comfortable enough for you.”

Rose was just as fascinated as he, watching him wind the ropes around her. When he felt satisfied with the braid of cords on her hand, he tucked the ends under in a series of motions, pulling the excess rope through and allowing it to dangle on the floor.

“How does this feel? Is it too tight?” He was touching her hand over the rope, tugging on the knot.

Rose flexed her fingers, her face so hot from the blood that had gathered there in her shamed excitement.

“It feels good.”

“No tingling?”

“Tingling?” Rose’s thoughts were dragged to her pussy, which was most certainly tingling.

“The blood flow in your hand,” Hux clarified, one ginger brow arching on his forehead.

“Oh, no.” Rose laughed nervously.

“Your other hand then, please.”

Rose couldn’t remember him ever using the word please before, but here, in this context, it was doing things to her and she hoped he wouldn’t stop. He seemed ever the gentlemen, even as he was tying her up, preparing her for something kinky and altogether not quite gentlemanly.

He began to tie up her other hand, this one working much faster, now that he knew the proper tension to make it.

“How do you know how to do this?” she asked as he nearly finished, knowing that as soon as he was done, this was for real, this was happening, this was going to start.

“Research,” Hux uttered distractedly, beginning to tuck the excess through to make the knot. “I do extensive reading on many subjects.”

He was a reader. She should have known, as he’d suggested she enjoy a book when she’d been injured.

“Have you done this before?”

Hux met her gaze, holding her hand up by the length of rope, much like a puppet master holding the extended arm of his marionette.

“Not really, no,” He explained quietly. “Not like this… here in my room.”

She wanted to know she was special to him, and that answer, while not entirely satisfying, coupled with the way he looked at her, softened and malleable, wanting her, made her feel powerful.

“This hand… does it feel alright?”

Rose nodded, unable to find words as she studied him.

“Alright, then. Hold out your arms, please.”

Rose did as he asked of her, and he draped the excess rope over them, nodding toward the mattress.

“Have a seat.”

She sank onto the mattress, her stomach turning so badly she thought it might escape. This was it, it was time. He was going to touch her. She could hardly wait, so impatient, her thoughts spinning madly within and her heart fluttering like a bird.

He left her, walking toward the dresser, and opened up a drawer, pulling out a fresh pair of leather gloves. They creaked as he pulled them over his hands, as he tightened them, as he flexed his fists. Rose relished every delicious sound, her core clenching as he turned around to face her, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, Rose,” He uttered softly. “Let us begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to share this so you can see how pretty the [braided cuff tie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cFAqqsoKRac) is, but without spoiling so it's here at the end. Hux chose it well, he's so smart and loving for his Rose. (Also, these boys in this video are adorable.)


	13. Fondu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What comes next?” Hux demanded._   
>  _“ Y-… you…,”_   
>  _“Yes?” He whispered softly. “Tell me… what comes next?”_   
>  _“You de-,” Rose could hardly bring herself to say it._   
>  _“Tell me, and I’ll do it,” he insisted._   
>  _“You devour me,” Rose bit out finally, cheeks red with shame at her own words, watching him expectantly._
> 
> Hux and Rose enjoy one another physically, and certain barriers between them come down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains some of the more explicit tags listed. PLEASE READ THE TAGS CAREFULLY. And enjoy. 😘
> 
> Thanks to [@HellyJellyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/pseuds/Hellyjellybean) and [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26) for being amazing Betas, so fast and so fabulous! 🌹
> 
> Chapter title Fondu was not on the typical list of ballet terms, but is a dance move that also conveniently means "to melt", so it's perfect. [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26) gave me the title.

The bed in Armitage’s room was folded down, the black silk duvet bunched at the end of the mattress, the smooth black bed sheets pristine and wrinkle-free upon its expanse. Spread over the top, at the head of the bed, was a clean white sheet, because Armitage thought of everything. He planned to be very messy with his little treasure, and on the off chance he was able to bring her to the edge of the somewhat mythical female ejaculation, he wanted to be prepared. There was no point in spoiling the clean sleeping linens of his bed when he could take early precautions.

Rose sat right in the center of the white sheet, her back up against the headboard, her hands down on the pillows beside her in the slack of the rope he had already tied to either side of the wrought iron. Her knees were curled up into her chest, her stockinged feet crisscrossed on top of the white sheet, her eyes wide, irises almost black with the enlarged shape of her pupils. She watched him as one might a tiger, wary and in awe. Afraid, but unable to look away.

But he knew it was a good kind of fear. A very good kind.

“It’s a pity we have to do this here,” He mumbled.

Rose studied him, his form limber and relaxed, spread halfway across the bed, one gloved hand encased around her ankle. He was stroking her calf in mild, languorous brushes of his thumb. It was driving her mad.

“W-… what do you mean?” She managed to breathe out.

“On the bed,” he glanced around them, his hand brushing slowly up the back of her calve and back down again. “I wish you were standing, but I did not have time to prepare bolts for the wall.”

“Bolts?” Rose choked slightly.

“For the ropes.”

Their eyes met. He looked so hungry, eyes warm discs of sea glass in the dim light of the room. Rose wished he’d just get on with it already. This tentative waiting game was pure torture.

“I’m… I’m not sure I could stand if…” Her voice trailed off as he resumed the stroking of her ankle with his gloved thumb.

“That would be the point.”

He moved then, and she shuddered with anticipation, the mattress sinking as he slid forward, his chest brushing up against the slope of her shins. He kissed her knee, slow and soft, and wrapped his other hand around her ankle, beginning to pull her legs down the mattress, toward him, under him.

“What shall I remove first?” He uttered to himself. “Shall I unwrap the bow of my present?”

“Tights.” Rose suggested, wanting to feel that leather on her bare flesh.

“This is my decision to make, Rose,” he chastised quietly. “I’m in control.”

“Please?”

How did she already know how to play him like a fiddle? He sighed, already knowing he would comply with her request.

“Since you asked so nicely…”

Rose closed her eyes and pressed her head back against the wall as his gloved palms crept slowly up the sides of her thighs. She honed in on the feeling, sighing with warm pleasure as he brushed aside the little ballet skirt, his fingers feathering lightly against her abdomen. He pressed closer, his weight over her, and he lay his cheek against the top of one of her thighs, peering beneath the skirt to find the hem. He rolled them down.

“Lift your hips,” he instructed softly, leaning up to allow her to do so. He called her a good girl as she did what he asked, and Rose trembled to feel his palms scraping down her bare thighs, rolling the tights along, resting her hips back into the mattress when they were down at her knees. He took his time removing the rest, rolling them all the way down off her feet with slow, agonizing strokes. Rose did her best to keep it together, keeping her breathing even as her head swam and heat filled her stomach.

Bunching them up, he tossed them over his shoulder, uncaring where they landed. Rose raised a brow, sucking in a deep and trembling breath.

“Armitage Hux, is something the matter with you?”

“Hmmm?” He made a very distracted sound, as his hands brushed down the sides of her legs.

“You’re… being messy.”

“It’s for a good cause.” He kind of laughed then, half a breath, half mild joy.

Rose had never heard that sound come out of him. Her heart hammered heavy in her chest. She studied his face, his high and prominent cheekbones, the plush shape of his mouth, the soft pale ginger color of his lashes as they fluttered opened and closed. Damn, he was beautiful, and she clenched her hands on the knots against her palms, itching to touch him.

“I am going to take care of this, later,” he whispered. He was cradling her feet in his palms. They were bandaged from dance wounds, tired looking and sore. She sighed as he kissed the top of each foot, one after another.

Her stomach bubbled over with butterflies.

“Armitage, please,”

He glanced up at her and nodded.

“Patience, my flower.”

Rose was not sure which was melting her more quickly, the fact that he was now sliding up her body again, massaging her legs in soft circles of his gloved thumbs as he went, the fact that he’d called her flower, or the fact that he’d called her _his_. All of it was so perfect, and she couldn't keep her eyes off him as he pushed the ballet skirt up her thighs, his mouth hovering over the apex there.

He worked the skirt down her hips then, sliding it beneath her ass and pulling it away, tossing it over onto the floor with the tights. She wore only the lingerie now, and her abdomen clenched as he pressed a soft kiss to the red lace of her panties, the warmth of his breath flooding her skin.

“Perfect,” he whispered, so quietly, as if he did not intend for her to hear.

He sat up suddenly, his hands wrapped around her calves, and he pulled her down the bed with a sharp tug. Her back hit the mattress, arms going taut above her head, tethered to the headboard. She gasped softly, tilting her head up to see where he was, but whined and squirmed as she felt his mouth on her navel, hot and wet, his tongue laving at her flesh. He moved slowly higher, his leather clad hands roaming her skin. One curved over a breast, and he squeezed it gently, massaging with the brunt of his palm, drawing a biting moan out of her.

“I had thought,” he mused between kisses to the expanse of her stomach. “That this would be difficult… but having you here… stretched out like this only for me… I am going to swallow you whole, Rose.”

His words, his tongue, his sinful mouth, those damned gloves; her head was spinning. She writhed slowly beneath him, her wrists tugging slightly at her restraints. She studied his perfect hair, untouched by desire, and longed to destroy it with the grip of her fingers. This was so unfair. She would have her revenge.

“In fact,” he uttered as he rose higher, his teeth grazing against her ribcage, gloved fingertips pressing into her breasts to curl against the lip of her bralette. “I could probably remove these gloves… but… you like them, yes?”

A gloved finger snaked inside and brushed her nipple. She jerked with pleasure, sighing heavily.

“Whatever shall I do, Rose?”

He kissed her just beneath the bralette, his eyes on hers, his expression smug.

“O-… off,” Rose managed to breathe out as his palm ground into her nipple again.

“I’m surprised,” He smirked slightly, looking anything but, and raised his right hand to her mouth, running his forefinger along her bottom lip. “Open up.” 

Rose complied, and he slipped inside, pressing his finger into her tongue.

“Bite.”

He hissed as she did so, harder than necessary, but his eyes went wild. He turned his finger under her teeth, sneering, then pulled his hand away, sliding out of the glove, leaving it dangling in her mouth. He examined his digit, no broken skin, just a little light bruising, and gave her a sardonic look as the glove dropped out of her mouth and onto her chest.

“You little minx,” he growled.

Rose smiled prettily at him, and the glove joined her tights and skirt on the floor.

His teeth grazed her chest as he bit down on the tie of the bow on her bralette, pulling it away slowly. The bralette fell open, and two grapefruit-like breasts bounced free, the lace fabric falling to the sides of Rose’s outstretched shoulders. He studied them with a dark, hungry look, taking in the dark rosy color of her nipples, the pimply flesh of the areola, the imperfectly soft roundness of them. Perhaps naked sex wasn’t so bad after all.

“Now we are getting somewhere,” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss the tip of one pert little nipple, his bare forefinger caressing the underside of her breast.

“So beautiful…”

Rose’s shoulders were starting to ache, her wrists feeling a little numb. She twisted her hands in her bindings, a little sigh escaping her. He glanced up at her, distracted from admiring her breasts.

“Color, Rose?” he demanded.

Rose frowned a little, her cheeks pink.

“… yellow.”

He sat up immediately, his hands tucking up underneath her armpits and he pulled her upward, helping her into a better seated position. He pulled his second glove off, tossing it over his head, and placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging her gently along the curve of her musculature.

“Better?”

Rose nodded, instantly relieved and flooding with warmth and appreciation at his care and attention.

“You must tell me next time, without prompting,” he admonished her. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her lovingly.

Rose sighed into his mouth, wishing once more that her arms were free to wrap around him. She imagined curling her body into his, over his, around his, drawing him into her, absorbing him into her very being, to pull him inside her body and make him a shrine there, forevermore.

“How are you… touching me?” Rose marveled as he pulled away to breathe, his lips hovering over hers. His fingers were at her jawline, stoking along her chin, tucking her hair behind her ear, every gesture so careful and loving.

“It’s not… that difficult,” he muttered as he sat up. “I suppose… it might be because you cannot touch me back or-,”

“Or?” she prompted him.

“Or… maybe I just want you so badly my need is stronger than my condition.”

His hand splayed tentatively across her chest, palm pressed to her sternum, fingers sprawled over the rounded warmth of her bosom. He held it there, studying it, as if holding his hand to a flame. After a moment, Rose’s chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, he leaned down over her and lapped experimentally at one of her nipples. She moaned quietly.

He did the little move again, taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, the skin around the area rising into his mouth. Rose arched against the mattress and cried out, loud, her hands tugging at her restraints, fisted clenched over the knots. He released her, lapping softly at the little bud, his free hand splaying over the other, stroking it gently, rolling her dry nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Are you wet for me?” he demanded suddenly, his body heavy over hers, grazing her nipple with his teeth. 

“Tell me, Rose.”

“I t-think so,” she bit out between clenched teeth.

“What comes next?” He suckled at her again. Rose bit her lip to keep in a groan.

“ Y-… you…,”

“Yes?” He whispered softly. “Tell me… what comes next?”

“You de-,” Rose panted, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. His right hand was cupping her waist now, bare palm to skin, stroking downward. It felt so nice, so heavenly, to feel his touch, so perfect, she could have come undone from that alone.

“Tell me, and I’ll do it,” he insisted.

“You devour me,” Rose bit out finally, her eyes blown wide, cheeks red with shame at her own words, watching him expectantly.

He gave her a little smile, then ducked his head down and pulled her breast into his mouth again with a hard suck, nipping the sore and tender nipple, then took her waist in his hands. He began to kiss her feverishly, all teeth and tongue and lips, dragging his nose down her torso, his fingers digging into her flesh, and Rose could only hang on for dear life as he dragged lower.

She jerked as she felt his face press into her crotch, his nose nuzzling the hood of her clit. She heard him breathe in sharply and her skin crawled, whether with delight or shame, she wasn’t sure, but as he tongued over her through the lace of her panties, she felt her cunt tremble with need.

“So very wet…” He remarked, and his fingers were working their way into the waistband of her panties.

“Hurry-,” she demanded, wiggling to help him take them down. The entire lower half of her body was throbbing with need, raw and eager. She’d never wanted anything more in her entire life.

He acquiesced to her demands, sliding her underwear off her ankle. They did not join the rest of her clothing on the floor, but instead were tossed haphazardly to the side on the mattress. He studied the smattering of dark, curly hair between her legs, longing to touch but waiting until she was comfortably set before him.

“Open up, darling.”

Trembling, nervous, as this was her first time in _this_ kind of intimacy, Rose obeyed, allowing her legs to fall slowly open. Once there was enough space for him, he worked his way in, lifting her legs up onto his shoulders, her heels on his back, and he planted a soft lover’s kiss to her labia. Rose almost fainted.

“If you need to…” he began, his breath hot on her slick flesh. “You may tighten your thighs around my face… I don’t mind.”

He spoke between soft, tiny kisses, some on her inner thighs, some against the soft hair above her, some to her swollen entrance. Rose had long since forgotten the cold of the room: her entire body was on fire, flushed, pink and needy.

“Wh-what does that-?”

He did not allow her to finish her question, for as she tried to clarify, he spread her wide open with two fingers and buried his face within her.

“Oh my god…”

Every word was drawn out in a quiet moan, long breaths and whimpers of need painting the air between them.

Rose knew that her body was made of flesh and blood. She knew it was a sack of bone and tissue, pulled together with an expanse of creamy soft skin, but in that moment, she marveled that the human body might be part machine. Everything was electricity, everything was intensity, everything was fire and need and hunger and burning and ache.

Devour was the perfect word, “feast” might have been even closer. He had chosen the words well, informing her in advance just how intense this experience was going to be. His tongue was inside her, insistent, tasting her with firm thrusts and massaging laps to her insides. She wondered, just for a second, if he could even breathe, as with every bob of his head, his nose crushed into her clitoris, his hands gripped tight around her hips, pulling her apart at the seams, holding her tucked into the mattress, up against his face. She could feel his cheekbones cutting her, his jawline bruising her.

Fire tiptoed across her skin, and she transformed, an animal beneath him, her back arching up off the mattress, her arms tugging at her bonds as she crushed the knots in her small fists, small screams of satisfaction tearing from her lungs, growing louder and more insistent on existence.

He pulled off her to purr her name and gasp in air, running his nose through her slit, her mess all over his face. She stared at him, transfixed, until her eyes rolled back in her head as he lowered again to pull insistently at her little rosebud, sucking so hard she exploded immediately into the most painfully delicious orgasm.

But he did not relent. His fingers were inside her, two of them, curling upward, and he continued to suck on her as he began to thrust. It hurt so much in the best way. She would hate him if he stopped.

“H-… h-…Hux…”

She breathed his name like he were a god, heavy on the “h” of his name, drawing it out in a moan, and he growled into her, the vibrations of need combined with the power of the pull of his lips, the curl of his insistent fingers, had her rising again, tides of pleasure flooding her consciousness.

She wanted to tug on his hair. She wanted to push him inside her, against her, but he held her still, so still, it ached. It was agony.

The sounds, like waves lapping on a shore, cresting bodies of water that slipped and splashed, as he tongued over her, sticky smatters like bubble gum being chewed by the most obnoxious childlike pest as he thrust violently in and out of her. His tongue teased at her clit, flicking violently, fingers arched tactically within her, caressing the hidden spot up inside her with incessant probing with the pads of his fingers. She came undone again and again, trembling around him, her head thrown back against the headboard, his name tearing from deep in her lungs. She ceased to be human: she was a feeling, sensation only, the physical embodiment of pleasure, formed by a creative and masterful set of hands and a perfectly purposed mouth.

He relented then, stroking her down, having achieved his goal.

Rose barely registered that everything was suddenly so much more wet, and briefly wondered if his saliva had commingled with her natural lubricants. Everything was liquid, molten hot, lava-like, as he slowly stroked her within, soothing her orgasm, lapping lovingly and tenderly at her sensitive bud. She trembled as she came down, muscles jerking and seizing slightly, here and there, and she relaxed her thighs, realizing she had done just what he’d suggested she could do, and had clamped them down tight around his face.

She fell to the mattress with a heavy, deeply sated sigh.

He was smirking at her, so smug. Rose had half a mind to plant a foot in his face. He was soaked, filthy, his chin and lips and nose shining with her fluid, little droplets collecting along the bottom of his jaw. Rose wasn’t sure whether to feel mortified or utterly turned on. She wasn’t sure she had the capacity to do either anymore.

“Why-… why is it so… wet?”

She watched as he crawled over her, pulling up a corner of the white sheet, using it to clean off his face.

“You ejaculated,” he uttered, taking on his familiar text-book quotation tone. “It’s relatively sweet. Would you like to taste?”

Their eyes met and Rose blushed heavily, glancing away to stare at the ceiling in the opposite direction.

“So now you’re shy…” he muttered teasingly.

“I’m not,” she protested with a heavy huff. “You’re just… so shameless.”

“I’ve wanted to do this to you for a very long time, Rose.”

She glanced back toward him, her heart skipping and stomach leaping.

He was so close to her; she could see darker pebbles of green within his soft gaze. He really was so beautiful.

“Untie me. It’s my turn.”

He smiled slightly, but his eyes looked wary. He glanced down the length of her nude body, brushed a hand against the swell of one of her breasts affectionately, then glanced up at her bindings.

“Promise you won’t throw yourself at me when I do?”

Rose wondered how he knew. Her one desire, her highest and most focused intention was to be all over him as much as possible, as immediately as possible. She couldn’t stand it, and longed to wrap herself around him, against him, become one with him. But she could see the mild trepidation and fear in his eyes.

“I promise.”

She meant it, even if she had to fight every instinct within her body. She would take it slowly, for him. She would take great care, for him.

She sighed with sudden relief as he loosened the bonds from the headboard, pulling her still tied hands immediately into her lap and against her chest, rolling her shoulders. He watched her with concern, wary to approach, but she bit her lip and pressed her hands together, focusing intently on not touching him, at all. It was so hard, she had to really, truly think about it with great effort.

His hands came to her shoulders and he massaged them lightly, once he was certain she was not going to tackle him. He moved down her arms, stroking lovingly, massaging tender spots of muscle, and Rose closed her eyes, sighing with the feeling of relaxation. He worked carefully to untie the cords from her hands, raising them both when he had finished and kissing her palms, her wrists, each little finger. His thumbs pressed and rubbed into the ligaments, smoothing them out, and he checked for marks.

“All good.”

Rose opened her eyes and glanced at him as he lowered her hands and sat up straight on the bed.

“So now it’s my turn?”

“So eager…” he chuckled lightly.

Rose would do anything to make that sound come out of him everyday for the rest of her life. It lanced through her heart, which swelled like a balloon, and she startled him as she sat up quickly, moving toward him. He leaned away, falling back into the mattress, and crawled backward from her slowly as she kneeled over him. Rose blindly fumbled around on the mattress with one hand, seeking purchase of one of the black silk ropes.

“You agreed,” She stated demandingly, finding a cord and pulling it up in her hands. She sort of wished she were not naked for this, but when she noticed how Hux was looking up at her, in awe and desire, she wondered if it would work to her favor.

“Do you even know how to tie anything?” he questioned her skeptically, cowering down into the mattress, one arm raised as if in self-defense.

Rose nodded.

“I was a girl scout for a brief time. I can at least manage to fix you to this bed.”

One ginger brow arched up high on his forehead.

“A girl scout?”

“Yes.”

He examined her for a long moment, seeming to weigh his options, then slowly lowered his hands and sat up, forcing himself to be brave.

“I will keep my word. Where do you want me?”

Rose’s entire body flushed with glee. She gathered the ropes in her hands and shifted, pointing toward the headboard and the crumpled white sheet.

“Here, please.”

Hux breathed in slowly through his nose, a carefully executed motion, but the mattress sank with his weight as he took her former place in the center of the bed. He could feel phantom damp on the white sheet from her ejaculation and shivered with mild trepidation. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do the same. He was afraid.

“I’m going to get a shirt of yours. It can be the one you’re wearing, or a new one. Which will it be?”

Hux met Rose’s gaze as she announced this new information, glancing down at his torso. He knew he’d have to reveal himself to her soon, but to do it so quickly, to just remove every stitch of armor before her just like that, like it didn’t matter, like he wasn’t terrified, was too much. Though something else was niggling in his mind, a little thought that said, “Wouldn’t it be lovely to see Rose draped in your shirt, no panties, flashes of her tits through the open buttons?” Hux could definitely understand the appeal. His mouth went dry.

“Which would you prefer?” If he left it up to her, he’d be forced to give in. He wouldn’t be allowed to be the coward he knew himself to be.

“This one,” he felt Rose’s fingertips caress his side, tugging slightly on the fabric of the shirt.

His breath caught in his throat. He froze, staring down at the mattress, then nodded slowly, beginning to undo his tie.

Rose stared at him, watching intently as he undid the knot of the black tie and pulled it away. She took it from him, folding it and laying it over the mattress at the foot of the bed, then replaced her eyes on him, hands tightening around the cords in her hands.

“Can you… could you look-….away please?”

His voice was shaking slightly. Rose bit her lip to hide a frown and nodded, closing her eyes and shifting her body away from him. She could hear the fabric of his shirt rustling beside her as he untucked it from his pants. It took him a few moments, buttons undone so very slowly, but she soon felt him lean toward her, and the warm, soft fabric brushed over her shoulders as he lay it over her and quickly retreated.

Rose happily slid her arms into the sleeves of the shirt, pointedly not looking back at him, doing up a few of the buttons and rolling the sleeves up to her elbows. It smelled divine, of whatever cologne it was he wore: jasmine, leather, spicy tobacco. Feeling a little more confident, now that she wasn’t entirely nude, she turned back toward him.

He was laying back in the mattress, arms clenched over his chest, staring fixedly at the wall opposite. Every bit of his body language was screaming ‘don’t touch me, don’t look at me, go away’, and it broke Rose’s heart into a million little shards. She shifted closer and he flinched. She stopped.

“Armitage…”

Her voice was so soft, so familiar, so beautiful, a bead of dew in the middle of a parched desert.

“Armitage, will you give me your hands to tie, please?”

She offered, tentatively, carefully, hoping and praying that if she were gentle, and kind, and soft-voiced toward him, that he would acquiesce more easily.

He glanced at her. Their eyes met. His pupils were wide with mild terror.

Rose shifted closer, fingering the scarf he had tied on her earlier. She’d been wondering if he had planned something kinky with it, but he hadn’t done anything past tying it on her. Now she just wondered if he liked to see it on her throat, if it reminded him of how they’d fallen into this dangerous game together.

“Touch me, please…” She begged him, playing with the end of one of the little ties at her throat.

He unfolded then at her request, extending one hand across the short distance between them. He fingered the bow, his fingertips touching to her throat, eyebrows arched high as if he were in pain.

“That’s it…” She whispered lovingly. “I love to feel you here.”

Prompted by her words, his whole palm cupped her throat over the scarf, his fingers curling around the back of her neck, thumb rubbing in the crevice at her jawline.

“Do you like how I feel?”

He nodded slightly, but he was starting to look away from her again. Rose leaned closer, scooting in toward him on the mattress, her fingertips touching so lightly to his wrist. He looked back at her, wide-eyed, and she gave him a warm smile.

“All I want to do is caress you with my hands…” She confessed. “Just like you did for me. I promise that it won’t hurt. You just have to trust me. Do you trust me?”

Their eyes connected and Rose did not blink, did not look away. She would not startle this poor, wounded creature. He slowly lowered his hand from her throat, pulling the other away from his chest, and nodded. He dutifully slid his hands up toward the headboard, preparing himself to be tied.

Rose was careful not to tie him too hard. She didn’t want him to feel out of control, this was an illusion, only. He needed to feel that she was in charge, but that he had an out, a way to relieve himself if this became too much. But she knew she wasn’t going to let it get that far. Once he was secured, she took in his body for the first time, really looking.

He wasn’t fully nude yet. He wore a white tank top, one that was tucked deep into his pants below his belt buckle. But because it was white, and it was only an undershirt, she could see fine details, the outline of his shape. She longed to explore further, but had to assure he was okay, first.

She lay down on her side beside him, propping her cheek up on an elbow and meeting his gaze. She did not touch him, but studied his pretty green eyes, smiling softly, enjoying for just a small moment that he trusted her enough to do this for her.

“What?” He asked nervously.

“Just trying to let you adjust…”

“Can you not? It’s making me more nervous. Just get it over with, already.”

He looked away from her.

Rose sat up and reached over him, taking firm hold of his chin and drawing his face back toward her. She leaned over him and kissed him, a soft, possessive nip of his mouth, a lap of her tongue, and he sighed against her.

“Trust me,” she repeated. He closed his eyes.

Rose touched her fingertips to the center of his chest. He flinched slightly but did not move, just kept his eyes closed tight. She tested a little stroke, moving her hand down his sternum, surprised to find how hard and firm he felt beneath her. She really wanted to have a look.

“Armitage, I have a question.”

“What?” he sounded so much in pain.

“How did you get me to ejaculate?”

He blushed slightly, becoming flustered, and opened his eyes to glare at her. He shook his head slightly.

“Why do-… why do you want to know that?”

“I know you’ve probably researched it. I know there are probably so many thoughts swimming in that big brain of yours. Tell me.”

Rose wasn’t sure this would work, but she knew he liked to espouse facts and be accepted and acknowledged as being smart for knowing them. He breathed in deeply, preparing to answer her, and she felt him lose some of that tension beneath her touch. She smiled softly to herself.

“Every woman has many erogenous zones,” he began to narrate.

Rose lay her palm flat against his chest. He barely flinched that time. She smiled wider.

“The clitoris is, arguably, the most important one. But the collection of nerves that serve to bring pleasure to the body from this spot is not only centrally located outside,”

Rose nodded, agreeing with him, as she stroked down the soft plane of his belly. His skin flinched away from her, but he did not. It tickled, then. He was becoming more comfortable. Rose bit back the urge to touch him in the same manner. She did not want to tease him.

“But they extend deep within the walls of the vaginal canal, known colloquially as the ‘G-spot’.”

He didn’t even notice as she began to pull up the edges of his tank top, untucking them from his pants. She spied a flash of pale, alabaster skin, a little scruffy shock of ginger, and she felt a low tug of arousal awaken once more within her.

“This spot varies in placement on every female, but if found and properly stimulated, orgasmic impulses increase astronomically.”

“And you did such a good job finding it, didn’t you?” Rose whispered in a praising tone.

She eyed him; he flushed with something. Was it pride?

He hadn’t even noticed, but his tank top was already pulled halfway up his chest.

As he nodded and continued to narrate, Rose took the moment to drink him in with her eyes. At first thought, she compared him in her mind's eye to a marble statue, not the sort that depicted great Greek heroes that would ride off to war, not the sort that depicted the epitome of male anatomy, but the softer, handsomer sort, the kind depicting the leisurely pleasure of a god. His stomach was marked with lightly defined muscle, his hips cut just as sharply as his cheekbones, and the entire expanse of his flesh was a soft, smooth marble white. It made the smattering of ginger hair just at the top of his low slung pants more obvious, and Rose glanced up at him while he yammered away, to make sure he was suitably distracted, then slid her fingers along the line of hair until she ran into the hem of his pants, where it continued on, safe from her touch.

He sighed as she did so, turning to glance at her with wide eyes. He said nothing, but examined her with wild terror, his fear momentarily returned.

“Tell me more,” she ordered.

As he continued to talk about female ejaculate, the difference in the chemical properties of it versus male ejaculate, Rose became engrossed in examining him. She pushed his tank higher, until it was piled just under his chin, and examined the beautiful, broad spread of him beneath her, wanting now more than ever to climb on top of him and devour him herself, ride him into oblivion, until they passed out from exhaustion, slept, and woke to do it all over again.

“You are so goddamn beautiful…”

She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud. He paused mid-phrase, his eyes piercing her with a worried stare, and he shook his head slowly.

“No… no, Rose.”

“What?” She could sense him starting to panic slightly.

“No… no no no,”

Rose grabbed ahold of his chin again, forcing him to look at her.

“Armitage. Are you going to tell me how I can and cannot feel about you?”

He stared at her, frozen stiff beneath her touch. She stroked his jawline with her thumb, then leaned in and kissed him forcefully, biting his lip before she pulled off of him. Her hair fell over her shoulder, soft tendrils brushing his chest, tickling him.

“I can’t be beautiful…” he croaked softly.

And he looked like he believed it. His eyes were so sad, deep wells of lost sorrow, so injured, so hurt, that Rose felt her own begin to fill with tears. She shook her head firmly, forgetting to take care, and she pressed herself over him then, folded her body onto his chest, and began to smatter him with kisses, one after another after another, her fingers stroking him, her hair spilling into his face, over his shoulders, surrounding him in the floral scent of her perfume.

“Y-yellow…” He uttered shakily.

Rose froze, her lips on his skin, and did not move, waiting for him to command her to pull off of him. It was breaking her heart. How could she get through to him? How could she make him see himself as she saw him? Long moments passed, she leaned up to glance at him, and he was watching her, his eyes filled with mild self-loathing as well as something else. Fascination?

Yellow meant slow down, not stop.

Rose pressed a tentative kiss to one of his pale pecs. He tensed beneath her. But he said nothing.

She stroked gently down his side, finding the sharp, angular bones at his hips. He said not a word.

She kissed small, feathery light marks down his sternum. He took it well.

Her fingers began to fumble with the buckle of his belt. He allowed it.

In this small, kiss-stop-go sort of way, Rose had covered the entire expanse of his body in love from her lips. When he did not protest, his cheekbones now a little pink, the fear melting away from his face, she added little laps of her tongue, finding so much joy in teasing at the soft part of his belly, where he was quite sensitive, as his skin jerked beneath her with each and every peck and nibble she gave him there. Soon, his buckle was gone, his pants were down by his knees, and she was faced with a new challenge.

He wore a pair of tight, navy blue boxers. Beneath them, she could see the shape of him, a solid erection pushing at the boundaries of its cage. She bit her lip, unsure of what to do about this most sensitive and lovely part of him. The animal in her wanted to go ahead and impale herself upon him, but she wanted their first time to be 100% open without being tied down, and without a single stitch of clothing on either of them.

She tested him out with a touch, running a finger over the cloth along the outline of his penis. He shuddered and jolted, letting out a wild hiss.

“No hands,” he bit out. “No… no mouth, either…”

There was only one option then. Rose slid forward and hiked one leg up and over him, sinking into a seated position over his groin, her cunt responding with a fiery clench of need as she felt the dense line of him against her. She chastised her pussy, insisting that she pleasure him as much as he had her. This was all about him.

He closed his eyes, avoiding her gaze, but did not say anything against it. She tested him with a little roll of her hips. He rewarded her by twitching beneath her, a guttural moan leaving his mouth, and his eyes slid open halfway to pierce her with a hot glare, his mouth hanging open slightly in his need.

Rose needed no further permission. It didn’t take very long, either, and was by far one of the hottest things she’d ever done with a man. She could feel every inch of him beneath her, he wasn’t enormous but was impressive enough to send her thoughts down dirty alleyways, and as she rolled and swayed above him, massaging her soaked pussy against him, drenching his underwear and dragging hot and heavy over his dick, she planted her palms on his stomach, fingering the pretty red curls of hair there, tracing the cut of his hip bones. He came quickly, easily, a hot splash of liquid warmth seeping beneath her. Rose groaned softly as he did, biting her lip to quiet it so she could hear him above all.

He was chanting her name in such quiet whispers. Rose felt, in that moment, that she would never have enough of watching this man come undone beneath her. She couldn’t wait for what the future promised. 

It seemed this experiment had worked. They showered together. Hux could touch her now with no fear, no hesitation, and did so easily and frequently as he helped cleanse her body beneath the hot, steaming stream of water. They couldn’t help themselves, and kissed passionately beneath the falling droplets of heat, Rose tentatively touching his biceps, his abdomen, his shoulders. She kissed his collarbone, her tongue fitting into the little hollow, and she lapped water droplets from his pale lashes after he let her wash his hair.

Afterward, she stood shivering in the chill of the bathroom as he prepared a bath in an enormous clawfoot tub. She watched as he bent over it, filling it with delicious smelling bath salts and testing the temperature, his firm, naked ass on display for her to see. She would have loved the view, except that his broad back was exposed, too, and on the creamy soft expanse of his flesh there, she could see the faint outlines of whiplash scars.

The sight tore her soul from her chest.

She said not a word, however, and accepted the bath warmly. He tried to leave her, to go get dressed and wait for her to finish, but Rose insisted. So, they sat together, careful and tentative in the hot water, Rose laying back against his chest. He took a long while to warm up to the idea, but soon his arms were around her, his lips at her neck, kissing mindlessly, his thumbs stroking lazy circles into her sides. After a while, having soaked thoroughly in the water, they exited, and he bundled her up in his bathrobe while he dressed in silky black sleep pants slung low on his hips. He left his shirt off at her request, clearly uncomfortable at the notion, but attempting to be brave, and after the dirty sheet had been cleared away, he massaged and cared for her dancer’s feet just as he had said he would, applying fresh bandages and covering them in tender kisses.

Rose was exhausted, fighting to keep her eyes open. The alarm clock on the side table read two in the morning. She glanced at the large expanse of the bed.

“Can… can I sleep here with you?” she was hesitant in asking. Even after all they had done together, she still felt like the normal parts of a relationship, whether you slept over or not, were highly important. If he denied her this, if he drove her back to the dorms now, would all of this have been for nothing?

“Yes.” He offered, like it was nothing. No big deal.

Rose grinned, shedding the bathrobe immediately and scurrying to hide her naked body under the sheets. Hux watched all of this with a raised brow, but a soft smile was pulling at his lips. He took his time, gathering the bath robe, and their discarded clothing from the floor, tidying the room slightly, while Rose watched sleepily from her position on the bed. When the room had some semblance of order again, he joined her in the bed, sliding within and pulling the chain on the side table lamp to allow the room to descend into darkness.

There was so much space between them.

Rose slid closer, touching her fingertips to his spine. He tensed slightly.

“Armie…”

His cheeks warmed in a hot blush.

“Sorry… is it okay? That I said that?”

He didn’t say no, but he’d be damned if he was going to say yes. He clenched his teeth, staring into the darkness.

“Armie, can I… can I touch you?”

When he did not respond, Rose took this as a reluctant acceptance. She was pressed against him in a heartbeat, her arm snaking over his waist, pressing her nude form up against his back, imagining the scars there disappearing, as if by magic, at the touch of her skin to his. He stiffened beneath her but said not a word, and Rose slipped her hand around his head, curling her fingers through his hair, stroking him so softly, so gently, so lovingly.

She fell asleep first. Hux lay awake a long time, staring into the night, his face on fire, his body tense at the touch of hers.

How in the world did he ever deserve to end up here, with her, wrapped so surely around him? He didn't not know, but he decided not to examine the idea too closely. He was afraid that he would be unable to measure up, and this little piece of bliss he was starting to accept would be lost to him forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beautiful artwork up above was a commission done for me by [ @Izam_w](https://twitter.com/izam_w/status/1228870788041887745?s=20) on Twitter. She does amazing work for the Gingerose fandom. Please go follow her and show her warmth and love!


	14. Étoile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Eat up, Hux. I can’t hang with a man who wastes a perfectly good feast.”_   
>  _Hux knew Rose was intelligent. He knew she was daring, brave, audacious, even, but to be so tactical as to know exactly which nerve to strike, which button to push, was as impressive as it was infuriating. As he choked on the french fry, his entire face burning, a thought occurred to him. Rose Tico was perhaps entirely perfect for him, an admission he'd never allowed before that very moment._
> 
> Hux and Rose grow closer to one another as the Romeo and Juliet show draws to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The "past child abuse" tag gets a TAD detailed in this chapter. If this may trigger unpleasant things for you, may I suggest skipping the _ITALICIZED PORTION_ of text in the beginning of this chapter. However, if you can bear it, this scene is important so I hope you read. It offers clues into Hux's past. 
> 
> Thanks to [@HellyJellyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/pseuds/Hellyjellybean), [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26), and [ @ElfMaidenOfLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight) for being amazing Betas, so fast and so fabulous! I really could not have gotten this far without you. 🌹 I would have given up! T_T
> 
> Thanks to [@Wydja2](https://twitter.com/Wydja2), who actually wrote the ballet review that Rose reads to Hux in this chapter! If you want to read the full thing, you can find it [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1clP80LEVE6G2PiUfa94Xk9XEY0NUBYhuehRkyo8dBtA/edit?usp=sharing)!
> 
> Chapter title Étoile comes from [this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/) meaning "star". The term is used as a rank to signify a **lead** dancer in the Paris Opéra, but for the purposes of this chapter, it is a metaphor which you will understand once you read through to the end.

_“Armitage, look at you.”_

_Her voice was so soft and warm, filled with love. Armitage felt his cheeks burn. He stretched his leg out even more, balanced on the ball of his foot, arms held out steady. He tried too hard, always for her._

_“My handsome dancer… you will one day shine on stage,_ _малыш_ _.”_

_Малыш_ _: Mah-lysh, she called him._ ** _Little one_** _._

_He loved her. He knew he did. Even if he had to hide it. Even if there were other little boys and girls in this ballet school who commanded her attention. He was the only one who received a little fluffing in his tousle of red hair. He was the only one addressed with softened terms of endearment in her native language._

_He danced for her. It was all he existed for._

_Closing his eyes, young Armitage stretched at the bar, feeling his tendons pull deliciously, toes pointing, curling, but when he opened his eyes, there was only darkness. He heard a crash of glass, and water pooled at his feet._

_“You bumbling fool! CLEAN IT UP.”_

_Trembling, eyes downcast, he knelt to the floor. Shards of glass bit into his tongue. He tasted blood._

_“How can you expect to be a dancer, boy? Thin as a slip of paper and just as useless. I swear I’ll make you into a man or you’ll be nothing at all.”_

_Agony ripped across his back like a lash of fire. Armitage felt his spine contract, falling flat onto his face, his chin smacking into the tile floor, busting his lip open. The lashes of the whip kept coming, one after another, until he flinched, cowered, begged._

_There had been a time when he’d stopped begging, but this dream must be from his early youth…_

_A dream…_

_Yes, it’s a dream…_

Armitage’s eyes flew open. Pale light filtered from around the sides of the blackout curtains covering the floor to ceiling windows of his bedroom. He took a few steadying breaths to calm his rapidly beating heart, but stilled as he felt something warm, soft, and solid stir against his back. The object made a rather attractive sigh.

Hux bolted out of bed faster than his brain could remind him what, or who, was next to him. His back tingled like he’d been electrified, sensitive from the memory of old wounds, tickled by her touch. He clenched his fists at his sides and slowly turned back toward the bed, carefully creeping closer to peer over the mound of sheets and pillows. There was Rose, still sleeping. One side of her face was mashed up against her arm, mildly unattractive,but he found it adorable. Her hair fanned out around her, and he could spy a glimpse of one soft, round breast peeking out from beneath a sheet.

He calmed immediately at the sight of her. She looked so peaceful, so warm, so sweet. If he’d been brave enough, different than himself, he would have crawled back into bed with her. But he was not. He had routines that were calling his name. He had duties, responsibilities. Even if it were a Sunday morning, he could not allow himself to slack off. Even if he’d only really had about three hours of sleep total, he could withstand it.

Rose did not wake for another few hours. She slept comfortably, warm, unaware that she was alone for the last of her rest, unaware that Hux was moving around his condo, busy with the chores of daily life. As the sun rose higher, light streamed aggressively in past the curtain edges, a beam hitting her straight in the eyes. Rose stirred with a groggy moan and flopped over to her other side to avoid the light.

She peered through the rumples of dark sheets, spying a ruffle of ginger hair past a mound of linens. Smiling warmly to herself, her entire body responding gleefully to the fact that she had spent the night in Armitage Hux’s bed and he had not kicked her out... yet, and he’d let her touch him, and they had pleasured one another, and everything was so perfect. She slid forward and reached across the bed to run her fingers through the ginger hair, intent on waking him up.

Hux had been about to start breakfast when a sudden shriek tore down the hallway from his bedroom. He tensed and immediately dropped what he was doing, the frying pan rattling around on the counter as he set off at a sprint toward the sound.

“Rose!” he called as he burst into the room, skidding to a halt beside the bed.

She was laughing now, great loud sounds of glee, and in her hands, raised up in the air, four limbs and fluffy tail dangling before her, was Millicent, his ginger cat.

“It’s a cat!! She’s so fluffy, I love her,” Rose crooned.

Millicent was purring. She was _actually_ purring. 

“Put-… put her down! She’ll likely bite you!” Hux stammered a warning.

He was visibly flustered, but also intrigued. He had never seen Millicent take to anyone with such speed and affection. No one but him. He closed the distance between them and sat on the side of the mattress, reaching for her.

Rose tucked Millicent against her chest and shook her head, tutting her tongue at him.

“She likes me. Let me hold her for a bit.”

“Rose, she’s my-,”

“Your cat, yes. But she was sleeping with me!” Rose flashed a teasing smirk at him, pinching her tongue between her teeth. Millicent was flopped lazily in Rose’s arms, like a large, fluffy baby, and Rose was stroking her fur and whispering sweet little words to her, telling her she was so pretty and so smart and so tough for having to live with Hux.

He wanted to be annoyed. He wanted to be angry. But the sight of all that he cared about in this entire world come together like this, bonding, was threatening to fry his brain and roast his heart on a spit. He felt hot, head to toe, and cleared his throat, trying to get a handle on his feelings.

“I-… I’m making breakfast. How would you like your eggs?”

Rose glanced up at him, her expression soft.

“Breakfast? Oh… um. Scrambled?”

She was blushing. Hux could tell she was reading into this. He didn’t have the power to tell her he was only feeding her out of obligation, that she had only stayed the night with him because it had been too late to take her back, that he had only shared a bed with her because the sofa was too uncomfortable to sleep on. Well, none of that was true, anyway. He had no power to lie to her.

While Hux was in the kitchen, Rose searched for her clothing, but was unable to find any sight or scent of them. They’d just vanished. She figured he’d taken them away to wash them or something, as obsessive with cleanliness as he was, so she slipped into his closet and rummaged through his drawers until she found something suitable. Eventually, she settled on wearing a pair of his boxer briefs, which fit her well enough to stay on, her ass rounding out the gaps. She found a dark green cable knit sweater in the closet which smelled deliciously like him and engulfed her and figured, if he had any issue with her theft, he could fight her for it. Finally, she commandeered a pair of woolen socks for her feet and followed Millicent and the scent of warm food down the dark hallway.

The curtains were pulled back and the warm, natural light of mid-morning was filling the living space. Rose admired it with cheer warming her heart, noting that the cool, unfeeling atmosphere of his home was lessened by the light, and perhaps by her affection for him. She watched from a safe distance as Hux opened a can of cat food and tipped it carefully into Millicent’s little bowl on the floor, rinsing the can out to clean it before placing it in a recycling bin under the sink.

He was so meticulous, so careful, so opposite to her. Rose swelled with endearment and sidled up to the bar, scooting her bum into one of the seats and staring at him with a happy smile.

“Good morning,” she crooned.

Hux took a deep and careful breath, avoiding her eyes. Touching her, consuming her the evening before had been easy compared to this: seeing her dressed in his clothing, her soft thighs peeking out from beneath folds of fabric he’d worn on his very body, making her breakfast, having to endure her loving stares and warm sighs. This was terrifying. This was dangerous, and painfully unpleasant as much as it was lovely.

He could tell that she could sense his discomfort, and that made him all the more uncomfortable. When had she gotten to know him so well? When had she gotten so close? What mistake had he made? Where had he fucked up? What would happen when she grew tired of him? When she realized that he was nothing, weak, unfit for her?

“Armitage...,”

She called him from his thoughts, and he turned, his expression soft and broken.

“Did you smoke today?”

He raised a brow, confused, then followed her line of sight to the deck that lay beyond the windows. The remains of his cigarette were there in the ashtray where he’d left them, a thin, threadlike stream of smoke rising from the last of the ashes as the remains smoldered themselves to death.

“I did. Why?”

He busied himself with stirring the eggs in the pan, focusing on one task at a time.

“You were smoking when I first met you. Why?”

“Why does anyone smoke?” He shrugged his shoulders, playing it off.

“Well… why would _you_ smoke, Mr. Know-it-all walking encyclopedia? I’m assuming you _do_ know the risks.”

“I used to smoke in my youth,” he uttered quietly, fetching two plates from a cabinet and splitting the eggs between them. “It was a… coping mechanism. I have one now and then to help with anxiety.”

Rose bit her lip, worried now. She’d made him anxious?

“Oh,” the sound left her before she could think better about it. For the first time since he’d brought her over to his place, she was starting to regret it, question it.

He was silent as he rummaged in the well-organized refrigerator. Rose sighed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” he asked, his voice muffled by the door of the fridge.

“Do you… have you ever had a girlfriend?”

He reappeared from within the fridge, peering at her with a mildly confused expression, wary.

“Why do you want to know?”

Rose was starting to become frustrated. She hopped off the stool and crossed around the island into the kitchen, her lips pressing thinly together as she approached him. Her hands were lost in the length of the sleeves of his sweater, so there was cloth between their touch as she reached out and took hold of his hand, pulling it in both of hers. Their eyes were locked as she moved closer, and slid up against him, one arm wrapping around his waist.

“I like you, Armitage,” she confessed in a quiet voice, one that trembled slightly with the fear of rejection. “That should be obvious.”

The moment seemed to still and stretch into infinity. The words washed over him, spreading like a cooling balm, soothing to his parched and pain-marred flesh, strengthening his tired and weakened bones, feeding him sustenance he hadn’t known he needed. He could only stare at her, watch her, wait for the other shoe to drop, the BUT that would surely insert itself into this moment. 

She watched him back, anticipating, her eyes full of doubt and nervous consternation. He knew what she wanted to hear.

He had spent his entire life flinching, cowering in the open, hiding in the rough spots of life where no one could really see him. Yet somehow, this fiercely magnificent creature had trapped him, and she was not allowing him to get away. She was exposing him slowly, piece by piece, revitalizing him, breathing life into his needy and malnourished heart. In some ways it was wonderful, in others it hurt, and Armitage had spent his adult life doing his best to avoid pain.

He opened his mouth to speak. He wanted to tell her. He did feel the same way. 

He knew this was a pivotal moment. He knew if he fucked this up here with her that he would never get her back, that he would lose something crucial and necessary and oh so important. But he was afraid. And Hux had never taken to fear well. He’d either run from it, outsmart it, or con it. He had never fought it, head on, like she was asking him to do.

“Well?” she prompted after a long while. 

Her hand snaked up his back, fisting in the fabric of his shirt. She pressed closer to him, leaning up on her toes to be closer. He swallowed and looked away. 

“What’s your color?” she breathed suddenly. 

He blinked, then glanced back down at her, surprised. That was intuitive of her; she was so witty and brilliant with how she approached things, and he felt that this was easier to say. He loved that she was so understanding. 

“Green,” he uttered easily, the sound of the word rolling off of his tongue and expanding between them like a sigh of relief. 

Rose let out a heavy breath, her own relief imminent in the sound. She leaned up as if she wanted to kiss him, but he was too tall to reach, so he met her halfway, their lips bumping together messily, sharing soft little nibbles, nothing extravagant, but the motion left them both feeling warm and light-headed. 

She pulled away and turned from him, pressing her palms to her cheeks, and took both of the plates in her hands. She carried them to the bar and set them down, giving him a bright smile, her cheeks slightly pink. 

Somehow, her smile did not seem to shine with it’s usual incandescence. 

“Let’s eat,” she insisted. “Where are the forks?”

He fumbled for the drawer he kept them in, feeling a little dazed and confused, and handed her some cutlery. She took his hand in hers and drew him around to the bar where she clambered up into a seat and began to pick at the food he’d made her. 

“This is delicious, damn!” Rose exclaimed, throwing him a soft smile over her shoulder. “What’d you put in the eggs?”

He was still a little unclear, his heart hammering heavy in his chest. He was feeling guilty, of all things, that he could not be the man she needed him to be; guilty that he could not tell her how he felt, that he was fucked up and couldn’t be less fucked up for her. She deserved to know. She’d been brave and told him. 

“Uh,” he began, hesitating as he climbed up into his chair next to hers. “Bacon and onion, as well as some parsley, a dash of garlic, and some monterrey cheese.”

“It’s delicious,” Rose murmured, forking another bite into her mouth. 

Silence descended around them. Rose ate quickly, as if needing something to fill the time. Hux’s food sat untouched before him. 

He glanced at her, letting his eyes roam over her soft, curvaceous form in his sweater. He told himself it was okay to want something for himself, like he’d had Millicent, finding her alone in an alleyway and caring for her, after years of being alone. Rose was willing. She was an adult woman. She knew what she was doing. It was half her choice, after all, and she’d so far been quite obvious in what she wanted. 

“I… like you,” he blurted, his hands clenched into tight, nervous fists. 

Rose’s fork clattered to her plate with a loud rattle. She swallowed, cleared her throat, and turned to stare at him with round, glistening eyes. 

“Wh-... what?”

“I like you,” he repeated, the words sounding stronger in his mouth. He half-smiled at her then, hesitatingly. “I like you. I-,”

He was about to say it again when Rose grabbed hold of one of his fists, forced it open, and intertwined her fingers with his. She squeezed it lovingly, letting their joined hands hang between them. She studied his expression, her own warm and softened with happiness, then slowly turned and picked up her fork to resume eating. 

Hux did so as well. 

After breakfast, Hux drove Rose back to the dorms. He dropped her off by the studio to avoid being seen, and she walked back, wearing his coat over his sweater which was long enough to hide that she wasn’t wearing any pants. She pulled on a pair of jeans and socks, slipping on her converse, deciding she was going to wear his sweater for the remainder of the day, as he had not complained. After quickly freshening up in the bathroom, she darted back downstairs to his waiting vehicle, giving him a happy kiss on the cheek to thank him for waiting. 

They met her family at the airport. Rose had nearly forgotten it was their day to return home, having spent her morning with Hux, her phone still turned off and in his jacket pocket. Her family had already gotten to the airport by taxi and were waiting for her in the lobby. 

She held onto them and cried, while Hux remained a very safe distance away. He was sure that, by now, it was obvious to her parents that he was something  _ more  _ than an instructor, but he didn’t want to have that conversation.. Paige knew. She studied him and stared at him with narrowed, aggressively knowing eyes. 

He paled beneath her stare and rose to his full height, the comfortable stature likened to a soldier, where he could hide and pretend he were tougher than he really was. 

“Well?” Paige asked as her parents moved on to allow her time with Rose. 

“Well, what?” Rose pretended not to know what Paige was referring to.

Paige wrapped her arms around her sister, squeezing her tight, glowering at Hux over her shoulder. 

“Was the D worth it?” Paige insisted as she pulled away. 

Rose bloomed head to toe in red. 

“Dammit, Paige… not here. He’s just over there. Shut up.”

“I guess it was,” she said with a smirk.

Rose rolled her eyes. 

“I wouldn’t know…”

“Oh, bummer!” Paige exclaimed, and turned as if she were going to wave Armitage down, but Rose caught her hands and held them firmly.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks. I love you.” 

Rose hugged Paige again and then waved her off insistently, watching her go with a wry smile playing on her lips. Once her family had turned the corner, she faced Hux with a soft frown on her face. As she approached him, he extended a hand and took hers, held it, and guided her back to the car. 

They went to lunch together, at Rose’s insistence. She wanted a cheeseburger, and was delighted to learn yet another interesting fact about Hux: he had never eaten a hamburger, ever, in his entire life. She was sure there was some very sad underlying reason for this, but he liked her, and she liked him, and she was determined to stay within their happy bubble for as long as possible. 

“How does it taste?” she asked him excitedly, as he took his first, very tentative bite.

His lips pulled as if it tasted sour, his eyes wincing shut. He chewed and swallowed slowly. 

“Oh no, what’s wrong?” Rose’s face fell into a frown of dismay. 

“It’s… tolerable. A little too rich for my tastes.”

“Lemme try,” Rose reached across the table for his burger. 

“Paws off, Tico,” he said, his voice an unnecessarily dangerous growl. 

Her eyes blew wide as he batted her away, a large grin bursting the seams of her lips. 

“You don’t share food, do you?” 

As if to test this theory, she snatched one of his fries and popped it into her mouth before he could protest. He glowered at her across the table, setting his burger down neatly onto his plate, his jaw rigid. 

“I demand you pay for your thievery.”

“Oh yeah?” 

Rose gave him a challenging look and reached for another fry. He caught her wrist in his hand and pulled her in toward the table, leaning across the space, his eyes glittering with playful malice. 

Rose shuddered within to realize that it was, indeed, playful, yet still somehow deliciously intimidating. 

“For every fry you take of mine, I take something of yours,” he uttered in a quiet and controlled tone. 

His thumb brushed over her pulse point, causing a shiver to run down her arm. 

“You can have them,” she uttered cheerfully, picking up a fry and extending it out to hold before his mouth. 

Hux examined her expression, looking for a trick, eying her quite carefully. She gestured toward him, her smile warm and assuring, and he opened his mouth to accept her gift. She placed it between his teeth, brushing his lip with her thumb before retreating, her gaze flirtatious and warm. 

She relished the way the pale skin at his cheekbones turned pink. 

“Eat up, Hux. I can’t hang with a man who wastes a perfectly good  _ feast _ .”

Hux knew Rose was intelligent. He knew she was daring, brave, audacious, even, but to be so tactical as to know exactly which nerve to strike, which button to push, was as impressive as it was infuriating. As he choked on the french fry, his entire face burning, a thought occurred to him. Rose Tico was perhaps entirely perfect for him, an admission he'd never allowed before that very moment. 

She looked at him as if she knew it. 

He took her home again. He felt like, perhaps, he was ready to try to be brave for her. She wasn’t expecting it, expecting anything. She traipsed right on into his condo as if she owned the place, kicking her shoes off at the door, pausing to line them up, just for him, and then danced into his living room, turning a few pirouettes before flopping down onto the sofa. She watched him with warm eyes as he went into the kitchen and put their leftovers from lunch in the refrigerator. 

“I have to go home, soon,” she uttered aloud, like a warning, a hint dropped not so subtly. 

“I know. Dorm curfew is at ten.”

“Yep,” Rose was on her phone, staring intently at something.

Hux swallowed nervously. His palms were sweating. He wasn’t sure how to initiate this. He clenched his fists and moved toward her, planning in his mind that he would sit beside her on the couch, he would take her hand- no… perhaps take her arm, or just lean in and kiss her. 

“OH MY GOD,” Rose exclaimed suddenly, startling him. 

“What’s the matter?” 

He hurried toward her and sank onto the sofa beside her, all amorous thoughts forgotten.

“Wait, shhhh lemme read,” Rose urged him, shaking a hand to shush him and resting it on his knee. 

He burned under her touch, studying her with mild concern and confusion, slightly annoyed at being hushed up so quickly. Her eyes skimmed the phone, thumbing up the page every so often, and after a few moments she turned to look at him, her eyes welling with tears. 

“It’s a dance review,” she breathed out, her tone dreamy and unreal. “They-... they loved me, Hux. They loved my dancing.”

He relaxed out of his tense pose as he learned the source of her excitement. He gave her a tender smile, the action easy and unheeded by him as he delivered it. 

Rose accepted it greedily and slid across the space between them, pressing up into his side and holding the phone up so he could read as well. She nestled into his side, forcing him to be awkwardly uncomfortable or wrap an arm around her, so he did the latter, his heart thumping radically within. 

“Despite her unusual figure for a ballet dancer, Miss Tico exudes a delicate, flirtatious grace, combined with technical perfection,” Rose read from the review, her voice shaking with excitement. “Her moves, cheeky and yet coy glances towards her dance partner, made my heart shudder and once or twice, I envied the enamored Romeo who was graced with her favors.”

“Unusual figure…?” Hux repeated sourly.

“You’ve said the same before,” Rose pouted, poking him in the belly. 

“But-... I’m-,”

“He envied you… graced by my favors!” Rose teased, and before Hux could protest, she had leaned up and nibbled a little kiss to his jaw. 

Maybe now was a good time, he could keep this going, pull her into his lap, run his hands up underneath his sweater against her soft stomach. His cock began to stir at the memory of her warm flesh under his touch.

“And there’s more… they wrote about you!”

His arousal vanished as quickly as it had come, as if he’d been dumped in a tub full of ice water. 

“What? Me?”

Rose was already reading it aloud. He tried to interrupt her, to stop her. 

“Romeo, oh romeo. Armitage Hux, until now unknown to the public eye, captured my attention the second he stepped on stage- ARMITAGE! They loved you!”

“Please… no more, Rose.” he interjected, his hand tensing on her arm.

Rose, too excited to realize she was missing his discomfort, ignored him and went on. 

“I would not dare say what makes this dancer so mesmerizing to watch. Maybe his  _ elegance _ , which reminds me of Russian ballet dancers.”

Rose paused to look up at him, pure adoration in her gaze. He felt nauseous, and looked the other way. 

She returned to the review. “Maybe the illusion of love and absolute adoration he manages to create and convey to the audience as he held his Veronian princess…” Rose trailed off as she came to that part, her heart now thudding heavily in her own chest. 

Hux had to fight every instinct to leave, to push her away, to kick her out so he could be cold and alone once more. He stiffened as he felt her hand on his jaw, fighting her as she tried to make him look down at her. She did not give in, and he felt a warm, wet kiss on his throat. He caved and met her gaze, his own eyes reflecting his discomfort at hearing praise. 

“Illusion of love… as you… you held me on stage,” Rose repeated timidly, as if in awe. 

They stared at one another, silent, neither of them breathing. 

“You’re… a really good actor…,” Rose muttered after a while. 

“So are you,” he responded in kind. 

She kissed him. He kissed her back. She climbed into his lap, and Hux got to slide his hands up underneath his sweater on her form, palming her soft flesh, while she teased him with little rolls of her hips and messed up his hair with strokes of her fingers. Hux had never felt so good. 

Half an hour later, he drove her back to the dorms. It was early evening and Rose still hadn’t washed her laundry and thus had no clothing for practice the next day. They parted reluctantly, the pair of them, though Hux thought it suitable to have some distance. Everything was happening so fast, like they’d been going 45 mph on a highway and had suddenly engaged the hyperdrive and shot off into outer space. 

They were hungry, however, and when Rose tried to peck him a goodbye kiss, parked in his car at the gate to the park, they’d dissolved into feeding off one another once more, one of them, perhaps both of them, sharing a little moan of longing between their lips and tongues as they melded together, sticky, hot, and sweet. Rose tested a gesture, sliding her hand over the console and onto his thigh, and when he did not protest, cupped him outright through his jeans, to which he jerked suddenly and pulled away, slamming a palm to the roof of the car and coughing out loud, once, staring at her with wide-eyed surprise. 

She gave him an apologetic frown and removed her hand quickly, tucking her hair behind her ears and placing a hand on the handle of the car door. 

“Sorry, Armitage… g-... goodnight!”

The door slammed shut behind her and Hux watched as she took off through the park, his cock throbbing, his heart hammering away like mad in his chest. He regretted that he’d behaved that way. He regretted that she’d felt like she had to apologize. He wanted her to come back, to try it again. He wanted to be good for her. Instead he drove home, took a very cold shower and some sleep medicine and went to bed early, nervous about the performances that renewed the next day. As he lay in bed, drowsy and ruminating about their day together, he texted her an answer to her earlier question. 

**I’ve never had a girlfriend. You’re my first.**

Rose melted into the floor before sending him back a gif of two bears hugging, hearts coming off of them in radiating bubbles. She pictured him scowling at it with glee, and giggled herself to sleep. 

Their second performance was better than the first, for many reasons. Hux was much more comfortable on stage, having done it before. And regardless of how he’d felt when Rose had read the review to him initially, it had brought him some peace of mind, some comfort, that he at least had done something right. He was most assured that he was doing the very best he could for her, and that was enough. Rose was a pure goddess on stage, a young and newly-enamored Juliet, full of bright hope and so much love for her Romeo. By the third, fourth, and fifth performance, Juliet was so much in love with her Romeo that her passion had increased exponentially on stage, and in return, Romeo’s as well. Many remarked on how beautiful, elegant and realistic their dancing was, how much perfection they poured out on stage. Neither of them noticed, naïve and oblivious as they were, that Romeo and Juliet were showing so much love because Armitage and Rose were falling for one another. 

The dorm curfew was a barrier. Rose had to be in by ten pm nightly, or suffer the consequences, as a dancer still on probationary terms with the company. As the passion between them rose to explosive levels, Rose would sneak him into her green room and press herself against him, her body roaring with need and delight as he slowly opened himself further to her, allowing her hands to go places they normally couldn’t, her fingers to tuck into corners and edges, to wrap around the most vulnerable parts of him, as he let her inside his heart and his mind and his soul. She promised, with a nibble to his ear and a lover’s sigh, to treat him well, to take so much care of him, and he welcomed her with open arms.

They were almost caught, once. Rose shoved him into her closet and allowed Leia Organa-Solo to come in and congratulate her on her performance. They talked nervously for a few moments. Leia asked if she’d seen where Hux went, Rose blushed and did her best to act as if she had no clue, and then, thankfully, the owner of the company left in search of other places.

Rose laughed about it, joining him in the dark of the closet where they enjoyed one another a few moments more. Hux made promises to her, lofty ones of making good on their agreement the first night they’d performed.

“Saturday night… after our last performance for the week… spend the weekend with me.”

Rose nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck while he lifted her, making her feel weightless and supported and loved.

It could have been too much, it might have been. But she had taken such great care, taken it slow with him, for him, that Armitage was more than ready. He surprised her, Saturday night, in that once the door was closed, her shoes kicked off and lined up against the wall, he was all over her.

His hands gripped her hair as he kissed wickedly hot trails down her throat, pulling her closer, insistently, by a hand on her hip. She gave a soft whine of need, a most enticing sound, and he broke contact with her to give her a very serious, leveled look.

“I want to make love to you,” he uttered in a quiet, breathy voice, his words husky with longing.

Rose blushed, growing quite still under his gaze, like a rabbit enthralled by a snake.

“Okay, yeah… let’s… do that,” she agreed.

Hux pulled her against his chest by his grip in her hair, a possessive yet gentle motion, and Rose’s heart hammered heavily. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs and arms around him. They did not kiss as he carried her to his room, but stared at one another, studied each other, Rose slowly running her fingers up the back of his head, through his hair.

They shed their clothing quickly, broaching the ‘condom or no condom’ debate with ease: if he were clean, Rose insisted there was no need, and Hux did not need further persuading.

He explored her body like uncharted waters, drawing maps for himself in his mind’s eye, charting the stars of her shape. It was magnanimous, the effect skin to skin touch could have on a person, how it could make him feel more alive, more sacred, clean. He covered her body, every inch, nook, and cranny, with his touch, claiming her, marking her, branding her. She didn’t protest, but instead showed him just how delighted it made her feel, how much she longed for his needy and possessive loving, in the squirm of her body, the sighs from her lips, the long, guttural moans of his name.

He would never tire of hearing her call him Armitage.

He found it a game, one he much loved to win, for if he found the right place, x marks the spot for treasure, manipulated it just the right way, his name would come tumbling out of her lips, a prize for his victory, tainted with all of her love and need for him.

He discovered she liked it when he praised her, or called her by many of his creative little pet names. 

“My little flower…” he breathed at her navel, swirling his tongue and his teeth over her sensitive flesh, to which she squirmed deliciously beneath him. 

“Ar-.. mmmitage…,” she rewarded him, as his fingers plumbed her depths, gently readying her to take him.

Freed from the agony of touch, his mind was most fascinated with her body. She was so soft, so supple, there were curves he could grab, hold onto, squeeze with delight. To feel her softness against his lean, hard frame was transcendent. 

“Please-,” she whined with need, over-sensitized by the strokes of his fingers. “Hux, please…,”

“‘Please’ what, my darling?”

“Be-... be inside me…,” she begged. 

Her legs opened around him, her breath hot in his ear as he positioned himself over her. And as he sank inside, so slowly, carefully, inch by inch, he shook in her arms, trembled over her, afraid, so afraid, not of this, but of what it may do to him. She kissed his throat, his cheek, his forehead, stroked his hair, and he waited there, terrified to move, terrified that he would fall apart. 

“That’s good,” Rose purred, her voice soft with delight. “So good, Armitage…,”

When he started to move, everything changed. They were gods, not two mortals, two dancers who had happened to find one another. Between them they were building a star, and with every thrust and touch and bite and gasp it grew hotter, and larger, and more out of control. His skin was on fire, no place left untouched or unmarred by her caressing love. He was fascinated by her face, normally so soft, innocent even, her slightly round cheeks ever so adorable, but like this, she tore open for him, and her expression was so sensually divine, he grew mad with jealousy at the thought of anyone but him ever getting to see her like this.

She came first, only because Armitage was good at self-torture. He almost came apart from that alone, as she tightened and pulsed around him, the core of that hot star melting him into oblivion, but he held on, just a little longer, a little more, pulsating, probing, her nails digging into his ass, tearing at his hair.

_Armitage… Armitage… oh Armitage…_

He came undone, sputtered within her, crying out in one glorious groan of ecstasy, the star between them exploding into a supernova of heat and magnificent fireworks of sparks and fire and color. He barely registered falling limp beside her, sated beyond any ability to recognize who or where he was anymore, but she crawled over him, calling him back with loving nips and kisses, eager to keep their skin to skin contact. He held her there, examining her for the wonder that she was.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his throat hoarse with ache.

She studied him, so much love in her gaze, and nodded, bumping her nose with his, and they momentarily shared the same breath.

“Yes, Armitage,” she agreed, stroking beneath his eye with the pad of her thumb, caressing his cheekbone, tracing the shapes of his face.

Another line had been crossed. This one, Armitage was quite sure, could never be uncrossed again. The feel of that change was weighty and sat heavily upon his chest, in the form of Rose who lay across him, dozing lightly. He’d never been in love before. He didn’t know how it felt. But if he had to guess, he would say this was it. And he planned to never let her go. Not ever. 


	15. Sickling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Text from Armitage: **Millicent misses you...**  
>  Text from Rose: **Just Millicent? Or do you miss me, too?**
> 
> The Romeo and Juliet show has ended and the dancers have been given a two week break over the winter/Christmas holiday. Rose goes home to her family, and Hux is lonely without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: Mentions of cancer diagnosis and potential dying here. It's all for a MINOR character, but it could be potentially triggering for some.**
> 
> Thanks to [@HellyJellyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/pseuds/Hellyjellybean), [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26), and [ @ElfMaidenOfLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight) for being amazing Betas, so fast and so fabulous! I really could not have gotten this far without you. 🌹
> 
> Chapter title **Sickling** _(pronounced sik-ull-ling)_ comes from [this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/). It's a term that refers to the foot of a ballet dancer when en pointe: it can sometimes bend too much and curve, like a "sickle", which is considered unflattering, wrong, and potentially dangerous to a dancer. Of course, I am playing with the term "sick" being embedded in the word, and this chapter poses some threats to our Rosie girl.

The show ended after it’s two week running period. The company had made a lot of money off their dancers, off of Rose and Armitage and their “great acting”. They ended with a large blow-out party held at a rented ballroom at one of the local hotels, catered with a three course meal, and attendees were presented with a slide show full of images for all to enjoy. Rose and Armitage did not have to search for a reason to sit together. As the leads, they were placed together at the table of honor, with some of the other lead dancers in the performance.

As the pictures from their performances snapped onto the large presentation screen throughout dinner, Rose could not help but feel a fire begin to burn deep in her belly, one that rose up inside her and burned her cheeks until she felt certain that everyone in the room knew about her sordid affair with Armitage Hux the instructor. How could they not, after seeing how they looked at one another on the stage? She thought to herself that she had never looked more beautiful than she did when she was in his arms, enveloped in his warm embrace, cradled over a dangerous fall or supported over a great height by his unwavering, dependable strength.

She met his eyes over the dinner table and felt sparks fire between them. They both looked away quickly, and Rose reached for her phone.

**Can we leave early?**

He cleared his throat and pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping a quick reply and looking the other way.

**Of course. Meet me at my car in twenty minutes.**

Hux got to his feet and mumbled an excuse, bidding his curt goodbye to everyone, then made his way out of the ballroom.

Finn snorted derisively.

“Guess he can’t stand being friendly, even at his own damn party.”

Rose burned with shame and spent the next twenty minutes fretting over what Finn would think of her when she also slipped away. But when she worked up the courage to tell him she wasn’t feeling well, exhausted from all the shows, Finn just gave her a warm side hug, kissed her cheek, and asked her if she needed him to take her home.

She lied easily, saying she’d already ordered an uber.

As she made her way to Hux’s car in the parking garage attached to the hotel, she fretted over the fact that she’d lied so easily, and to someone she deeply cared about. It made her feel guilty. It made her question whether what she and Hux were doing was entirely correct or ethical. She knew the answer all too well, but avoided it, choosing to dwell only on the happiness instead.

The moment she saw his face, the bad feelings fluttered away, and she hurried into the passengers seat and buckled herself in, waiting until he’d pulled out of the parking spot to take his free hand, insistent she hold it the rest of the ride home, their fingers interlocked. She loved to hold it: his palm was wider than hers, but his fingers thinner, longer, and always cool to the touch. She liked to feel tethered to him.

After the show, the ballet company gave their dancers two-week leaves: mostly due to the approaching Christmas holidays, but also to get in some much-needed rest before their next sprint before the next show. Rose was going home to be with her family. Hux was staying in New York. They didn’t like to speak about the fact that she would be leaving soon, but they did make a small plan of their own. Her luggage had already been packed and was waiting at his place. She would spend the entire weekend with him before her flight on Monday morning.

Feeling warm and sated from the meal and a little tipsy from the wine, Rose began to undress him at the doorway, fingers fumbling with his buttons, then his tie. She kissed him messily, pressed up against him, sliding her leg between his to gain some friction against his thigh.

Millicent meowed insistently at their feet.

Hux tried to pull away, but Rose had her fingers in his hair, and she tightened her grip, pulling him to her mouth with a hungry growl, finally finding purchase on his leg as he leaned into the wall, forced slightly into a crouch, and she ground against him with a soft sigh breathed into his open mouth, their tongues connecting.

Millicent put her paws up on Hux’s leg and gave a louder mew.

They broke apart, Rose with a laugh, and turned to stare down at her.

“How about I feed the baby,” Rose suggested in a low voice. “and you take all of this off, fetch some rope, and wait patiently for me in your room, hm?”

Armitage’s gaze darkened at the look Rose was giving him. Her nails ran lightly across his scalp.

“She eats the whitefish on Fridays,” he instructed her with a placid tone, clasped her jaw in his hand, and claimed a firm kiss from her lips before extricating himself from her grip and setting off down the hall.

Millicent lapped at her dinner in the living room. As cute as she was, Rose made sure the bedroom door was locked to keep her out. Parents always need their quiet time, now and then.

“How did that line go again?” Rose asked, minutes later, naked and poised above him on the mattress.

Hux, equally naked, breathed out heavily as she stroked her palm soothingly down his erect cock, clenching his hands over the ties around his wrists, leaning back into the headboard to which he was bound.

“L-… line?” he grumbled softly, wincing as she thumbed the head of him a little too roughly. He was quite sensitive, too sensitive still to the bare touch of her skin, unaccustomed as he was to someone else touching him there. 

“Juliet’s line… as she dies,” Rose mused aloud, her toes curling as she elicited a proper moan from him with a long, cuffed stroke.

“The-… the happy dagger?”

“Oh yeah, that,” she uttered brightly.

Hux swallowed heavily as she swung her legs over him, one hand planted firmly on his chest, the other still holding his dick as if on a tight leash. He shuddered beneath her as she probed herself on his tip, her wet pussy almost sucking him in.

“I think it went…” Rose paused in thought.

“Oh, happy dagger,” she began to sink slowly onto him. “This-… ah-… is your sheath.”

With a buck of his hips and a soft moan from her lips, he was sheathed fully within her. Rose turned her face upward, eyes closed in exquisite ecstasy, her palm firmly planted on his chest. She could feel him move with every breath, his chest rising and falling, his hips straining to move within her.

Her eyes opened at the strangest, most beautiful sound she had ever heard in her entire life.

Armitage was laughing. Really, truly laughing.

It was a short, breathy sound, a single note pitched an octave high, warm like the rumble of flame, purring like embers as it trailed off.

She smiled nervously at him, brushing a thumb over his chest.

“What is so funny?” she demanded.

“The-… the line-… You said it so seriously,” his head bumped back against the wall, mouth hanging open in a wry smirk, his eyes closing.

“It was supposed to be sexy, but okay.”

Rose pinched a nipple punishingly between her fingertips, sighing with delight as he bucked beneath her in response.

“Good boy…” she murmured, and raised on her thighs, only to lower on him again.

He groaned appreciatively.

She steadied herself on his shoulders then and used the momentum to keep herself up, finding a delicious balance in the tightening of her thigh muscles and rode him, gently, into peaceful oblivion. He had tells before he came; she knew them now. His eyes would roll back into his head, his mouth would fall open; his entire body would tense up, not unlike how he’d tense up when nervous or to seem more intimidating. If Rose watched carefully, she could always stop right when he was at the brink and make him go just a little longer, which she knew was torturous for him, but she also knew he liked it, or else he wouldn’t keep letting her tie him up.

His tells were beginning to show now: eyes rolled back, chest going tense, so Rose slowed her actions, angling herself forward onto his chest, her fingers lovingly cupping his strong jaw, stealing a heady kiss from his mouth.

He whimpered in need, and tried to buck back into her, but at that angle, he had mostly slipped out. Rose gave him a torturous smile.

“Dammit, Rose-,” he huffed angrily, and Rose licked the tip of his nose.

“Delayed gratification,” she said with a little laugh.

“Y’know-,” he glared up at her as she lowered herself against him, rubbing her damp pussy along his slick covered cock, but not taking him inside just yet.

“What?” she crooned as she stroked up his sides.

“The French refer to the orgasm as _la petite mort_ ,”

“Is that so?” Rose did not sound fascinated by his wisdom, but she was smiling widely at him.

“I find… it fitting with your dagger metaphor,” he mused softly, grunting heavily as Rose got to her knees and palmed him again.

“How so?”

Before he could answer, she’d taken him again; rougher, harder, rising and falling again and again on his dick. Her hand went to her clit and she began to stroke frantically at it, the nails of her free hand digging into his chest.

“What-… what does it mean?” Rose gasped.

She’d gotten used to this over the past few weeks, Hux’s random facts and relatively aimless drabble in bed. She figured it distracted him, helped him with the tension, and she secretly found it deliciously adorable.

He was having difficulty focusing then, swallowing great gasps of air, his eyes starting to roll back in his head.

“It-… means little death,” he managed to breathe out.

Rose slammed back down onto him, shaking him to the very core. He tensed, his hands clenching into tight fists on the ropes.

“D-death?” She echoed, biting her lip and squirming with delight as her own orgasm began to build, face turning once more for the heavens.

“Death,” Hux repeated, his hips hammering up into her from below.

She died above him, a death of ecstasy at the murderous hands of his stabbing thrusts. He made it only so far for her to finish, her muscles clenching deliciously around him, before he bit out a low, guttural moan, her body shaking with the last few of his thrusts as he emptied inside her.

Bathed in the afterglow of post-coital bliss, Rose struggled to remain upright, determined to keep him within her as long as possible. Her hands fumbled up his body, steadying herself, and their eyes met. His gaze was glittering with some kind of feeling, a heavy intensity, a longing. She could feel his heart hammering beneath her touch, a steady drum, and her pulse seemed to slow to match it, their gasping breaths gradually steadying. 

When he started to slide out of her, she climbed off of him slowly, falling onto his chest, exhausted, cum seeping from between her legs and onto his belly. She reached blindly for the rope holding him tethered to the headboard, loosening it with a sharp tug. The moment he was free, he was all over her, enfolding her in his arms, rolling over her and covering her with kisses of adoring worship. She giggled softly as he did so, squirming beneath him, their bodies melding so closely together it felt like they were one being.

They lay in silence and mess for a long while, breathing slowly, in and out, in tandem.

“Do you have to go back to Houston?” he asked, voice tinged with regret and light sorrow.

“Yeah,” Rose replied, just as regretful and sorrowful. “But I’ll call you every day. I promise.”

Hux did not reply but buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent, burning it into his memory.

He drove her to the airport, and they said goodbye there, holding on to one another longer than need be. They were still in the early stages of their relationship, where everything was fluffy and soft and warm and sexy and needy, and Hux had never experienced it before, so he was all of those things intensified by the heat of a million suns. When Rose tried to pull away he pulled her right back, pawing at her, heavily irritated at the fact that they were surrounded by strangers at the airport on their way home to visit family for Christmas and not alone again in his condo, where he could be more physically affectionate to her.

“I’ll miss my flight, Armitage…” Rose sighed against his chest.

“I’ll get you another one.”

“You could come with me…?”

They hadn’t discussed that. Armitage pulled away a little, his eyes wide with fear. Going with her was a very large step in their relationship. It meant confirming this to her family. It meant staying with her family. It meant doing family things around a family tree over a family holiday that he had never, ever been a part of.

“No, you’re right. You need to go. You’ll miss your flight.”

He pulled away from her and Rose frowned, disappointed.

“I’ll send you photos.”

“Photos?” He arched a brow, confused.

Rose leaned up on her toes and tugged him down with a yank to his shoulder, whispering in his ear exactly what sort of photos she planned on sending him.

Hux blushed fully and cleared his throat.

“Right… that seems… acceptable.”

Rose giggled. 

“And I’ll call you every night.”

“9 pm, sharp. If you’re late at all, I will not pick up,” he uttered warningly, his tone lightly teasing. 

Rose poked him between the ribs. 

“Yes, you will.”

She leaned up and pecked a kiss to his cheek, then turned reluctantly away, walking off with a weak wave of her hand.

“Goodbye,” she called to him.

“Goodbye…” he answered back.

The smell of frying ch ả giò (Vietnamese egg rolls) filled the home, fragrant with spices and flavors, inspiring the warmth of memory Rose had from her childhood. Whenever there was an occasion to celebrate, her mother would make these egg rolls, and it was her absolute favorite thing to help with. She found the folding of the little rice papers mildly therapeutic, dipping her finger into a bowl of water and running it along the seams to make the edges stick. Paige and Jannah sat beside her, an enormous bowl of pork filling between them. They’d been at it for an hour already: her mother stood at the stove frying them up, and there was a mountainous pile sitting in the oven, keeping warm.

“Jannah, you will take some to your family, okay?” Mrs. Tico insisted for the fifth time this evening.

Jannah smiled sweetly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Paige eyed her mom skeptically, then nudged Rose under the table.

“Too bad you can’t send some to  _ Mr. Hux _ ,” she teased her.

Rose almost dropped the roll she was currently holding, stamping her foot down on Paige’s toes beneath the table.

“I’ll tell her about the $50 you stole when you were sixteen,” Rose whispered threateningly.

“Do it. I don’t care. You’re fucking your instructor,” Paige’s eyes were wild with the power it gave her to know this secret.

“It’s more than that,” Rose whined, her cheeks pink, her expression pleading.

Paige’s eyes widened and she froze, her head tilting a little to the side.

“You… you have feelings for him?”

Rose finished wrapping up a roll and lay it gently on top of the pile to be cooked. She met Paige’s gaze with a soft smile, her cheeks tinged pink, and nodded.

“I think I might… I dunno,” she hesitated, unwilling to share too much about a subject she hadn’t quite broached herself.

Paige fell silent, thoughtful, wrapping up a roll, much sloppier than Rose, and placing it on the pile as well. Mrs. Tico was still discussing Jannah’s family, both women chattering gently in the background.

“Do you love him?”

Rose blushed, growing still as her cell phone buzzed suddenly at her thigh. She momentarily debated between answering her sisters question and looking at her phone, but the desire to see if the notification was from Hux was too overwhelming, and she wiped her hands on a towel and plunged her hand into her pocket, retrieving her phone.

“Hold on,” Rose muttered to Paige, unlocking her phone.

**The new show is “The Lady of the Camellias”.**

Rose grinned, tapping out a quick reply.

**Cool. We can talk about it tonight. Only a few more hours.** **❤️**

His reply came in before she could fit her phone back into her pocket. She raised it once more, her heart flipping in her chest.

**I’m choreographing the lead specifically for you.**

She laughed out loud, examining her phone with a loving gaze, and replied earnestly.

**You can’t do that! You can’t treat me special as an instructor. That’s when we’ll get in trouble.**

“Are you texting him?” Paige demanded quietly.

Rose looked up from her phone to find all of them staring at her. Her face flooded with color and she cleared her throat, locking her phone and tucking it immediately into her pocket. She hoped he would understand, abandoning his messages like that. She felt the phone vibrate again in her pocket and yearned to reply but reached for another rice paper and spooned some meat into it.

“You have a boyfriend!” Her mother accused her.

Paige and Jannah burst into laughter. Rose looked like she might cry.

“I-… I-… Paige, did you tell them?!”

Paige shrugged, smiling widely.

“They asked me on the flight home after he drove you to the airport again.” She replied unapologetically. “I couldn’t lie!”

“You could have,” Rose grumbled, tossing her a filthy glare.

Her mother bustled across the room and wrapped her arms around Rose’s neck, kissing the top of her head.

“We’re happy for you, Rosie.”

She burned with warmth and love for her family, sighing heavily and accepting her mother’s smothering with a happy smile. She would be nowhere without her family and what they had done for her.

“Thanks, Ma.”

Her phone vibrated once more in her pocket.

When her mother returned to the stove, Paige and Jannah becoming lost in conversation, Rose stood and slipped out of the kitchen with a notice to them she was going to the bathroom. Once sequestered inside, she sat on top of the closed toilet lid and pulled her phone out, bending over it and reading his messages hurriedly.

**You’ll still have to try out for the part. It’s just that I have faith you’ll get it.**

Rose sighed happily, her stomach turning nervous flips inside of her. She looked for the next message, feeling a warmth blossom within at what she read there.

**Millicent misses you…**

Grinning so widely her face hurt, she tapped her reply furiously, hitting send and waiting with bated breath for him to see it.

**Just Millicent…? Or do you miss me, too?**

The text writing icon appeared almost immediately, just as Rose had predicted. He did miss her. He must be waiting by his phone as he did whatever Hux did by himself most days, lingering on in the hope she would speak to him.

Rose felt then that she loved him.

As his reply popped up, her head spun. She locked her phone and dropped it into her lap, pressing her hands to her cheeks, that last thought bouncing around her mind like a yo-yo on a string, released and dismissed as foolishness, then drawn back in yearning, as if maybe it actually had merit.

Did she love Armitage Hux?

Overwhelmed with giddy emotion, Rose bit down on her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, ordering herself to get a grip. Her feelings were at war with themselves, delight dying on the hill of love, and trepidation attempting to conquer from the hill of apathy. 

“Stop it, Rose… he’s… just a man,” she chastised herself, forcing her eyes to look at his new message. 

**Of course not. Even if I did, I would never admit something you could tactically use against me.**

But he already had admitted it. Rose felt consumed head to toe in fire, deliciously warm laps of heat crawling over her flesh and consuming her being. She wanted to see him so badly, to drink in the sight of him, the feel of him, the sound of him, the smell of him, the taste…

**But I miss you, Armitage.** **❤️**

She needed some air. She pocketed her phone, determined to make him wait for his next reply. She would force him to admit that he missed her by keeping him in agony, lingering for her next words, desperate and thirsting for her presence.

She slipped into the hallway, closing the bathroom door as silently as possible behind her, not wanting to draw attention to herself, and began to make her way to the front door, intending on taking a walk. She tiptoed past the open doorway that led to the kitchen, hearing murmuring voices within, pausing against the wall and straining to listen, to see if they were speaking about her and her new “boyfriend”.

“You have to tell her, ma,” Paige was speaking, her tone serious and angry.

Rose’s eyebrows knit together.

“You know what will happen if we tell her,” her mother retorted, just as angry. “Her heart is bigger than the sun. She won’t go back to New York.”

Paige snorted. “I’ll fucking make her.”

“Watch your language in my presence,” their mother barked at her.

“It isn’t fair to keep this from her. Baba could _die_. It’s been three months and his treatments are barely showing any improvement. Do you want her to come home to a dead father?”

“If it gets that bad, we can tell her, but right now-,”

Rose bustled into the room, her eyes wide, hands clenched into tight fists, glaring at all of them. They shrunk back from her, her mother’s words dying in her throat, and grew silent immediately at the sight of her. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, trying to get a handle on the trembling in her arms and hands.

“What’s wrong with Baba?” Rose demanded, her voice shaking with anger.

“Rosie,” her mother began.

The face of her mother was older, gentler, wiser now. She’d been a beauty in her youth, and in some ways she still was, but time was wearing her down. It’s what happened to family, to everyone eventually, but they had all been prepared for a while now at the potential of losing Hue Tico. The only one caught unawares now was Rose. It wasn’t fair.

“Tell me. Is he sick?!” her voice broke and a hot, angry tear slid down her cheek.

Paige stared at her with a deeply sorrowful expression. Her mother would not meet her eye.

“Stage IV pancreatic cancer…”

It was Jannah who had spoken, quietly but surely from her place still seated at the table. Her own eyes were filled with tears. Even though Jannah was not part of their family in any legal sense of the word, as she and Paige were not married (yet), they had been together long enough that she’d been grafted into it, almost seamlessly. Mr. Tico was especially sweet and kind to Jannah, loving like a father. This was hard on her, too, and even harder that she agreed with Paige that Rose should have been told, but the Ticos had made the decision and were emphatic on it.

“Stage-… stage four?” Rose’s voice crumpled, her face wrinkling up into a look of pain. Tears began to spill out of her eyes, and she raised a hand to her mouth, glaring at her mother through the blur of liquid in her eyes.

“Ma-… stage four? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Everyone was crying then. Her mother crossed the room and tried to wrap her arms around Rose, but she pushed her away, holding her hands out between them defensively.

“ **Why** didn’t you tell me?”

“Your career, Rosie!” her mother exclaimed, tears now rolling down her cheeks as well. “This is a once in a lifetime chance. We found out the day before you were cast as Juliet. How could we rob you of that chance?”

Rose shook her head in denial, feeling the anger rage hungrily through her.

“That was NOT your decision to make!”

“Don’t shout at her, Rose,” Paige suddenly butt in, striding forward to hover close, ready to come between them if need be. “This is a terrible situation for all of us. She made a mistake, just let it go.”

“Of course I would have come home if you’d told me. He’s my _dad_ ,” Rose’s voice broke again on the final word, and fresh tears spilled out. She searched for the words to finish her thoughts, but Paige was around her now, enveloping her, pulling her in close against her and tucking her chin over her head.

Rose clung to her sister, dissolving into deeper tears when she felt her mother slip behind her and join in the hug. The three women stood there together, crying for the one man on this planet they all agreed was worth loving so much. Long minutes passed and still they did not move, trying to find solace in one another. The eggrolls lay unfinished on the table. Some were becoming a little too crisp in the oil on the stove.

Mr. Tico arrived home from work to this mess of tears and hugs and emotion. He took one look at Rose’s face and knew she had been told. She rushed to him and held on to him for even longer, crying into his starched white shirt, while he whispered loving, soothing things to her and stroked her hair. Eventually, everyone calmed down enough, but it was too late for a normal dinner, so they helped themselves to egg rolls, enjoying the comforting flavor and taste of the slightly greasy food. Rose only ate a few, her stomach churning. Her thoughts were swirling around in her head, a chaotic, stormy mess of confusion. She was still angry, still hurt, still upset they had lied to her. She also knew that stage four pancreatic cancer was aggressive and could mean that her Baba would be dead soon.

By nine pm, her parents were ready to go to bed. She kissed them goodnight and watched them walk down the hallway, her heart breaking all over again.

She did not remember that nine pm was the time she was supposed to call Armitage.

Paige went to the fridge and retrieved three beers, popping their tops and passing one to Jannah, one to Rose. She collapsed into a seat at the table, taking a long swig.

“Fuck, beer… wish we had something stronger. Ma threw out everything in baba’s liquor cabinet when she got the news,” Paige grumbled.

Rose stared at the kitchen table, distracted by the swirling, grainy wood patterns. She tilted her beer up and knocked it back, chugging half of it in five long gulps without taking a breath.

“Why didn’t _you_ tell me, Paige?” she demanded in a small voice. “You should have…,”

Paige studied her before shaking her head. “No. You were finally happy, Rose. You don’t need to be tethered here to our aging parents. You need to get out there and make something of yourself.”

“Well…,” Rose mused, taking another strengthening sip of beer. “I’m not going back.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” Paige grumbled, sitting up straighter and leveling her with an angry look. “You most certainly are.”

Rose slammed the glass bottle down on the table with a shaking fist.

“I am not going to go DANCE in a city a million miles away while my Baba dies here without me!” she shouted, her voice shaking.

“Don’t be so dramatic… he isn’t dying, not yet anyway,” Paige sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose and wincing, a headache forming.

Jannah watched them both, then leaned forward, pressing her hand against Rose’s on the cold bottle, damp with condensation.

“Rose… you don’t need to come back home. Paige and I are moving back in here,” she reassured her.

Rose’s eyes widened. That was mildly comforting, in and of itself. But it didn’t dissuade her.

“That-… that’s good. Thank you for agreeing to do that, Jannah,” she murmured, mollified momentarily from her angry outburst. “We can all take care of them together.”

Paige opened her mouth to argue back, her eyes flashing with rage, but Rose had stood immediately, feeling her phone vibrate wildly in her pocket. She pulled it out and stared at the caller id.

**Armitage.**

A fresh wave of tears threatened to break over her. She silenced the vibrations with a hit to the volume button, slid the phone back into her pocket, and chugged the rest of her beer.

“I’m going to bed… g’night.” She grumbled to her sister and Jannah, leaving the bottle on the table for someone else to clean up, or to clean up tomorrow.

Once safe within her room, she sank onto her bed, her posture crumpled and weak with defeat and dejection. She opened her phone and stared at the missed call, her heart swelling with a painful ache. She’d missed calling him on time. He’d called her, twenty minutes later. She’d ignored the call.

She couldn’t remember anymore if she loved him, as she’d been pondering only hours earlier. Everything hurt too much. Her heart was in self-defense mode, and she knew if she called him right now that their conversation would not likely be a pleasant one.

But she wanted to hear his voice…

She hit the call button. It rang. She held it to her ear.

His voice came over the line, firm and clear, his accent posh and pretentious.

“Finally,” he grumbled. “You agreed to call promptly at nine pm, Tico. You better have a good reason for being late.”

She wished she was in the mood to tease him. He reminded her so much of the growling, scowling, masterful Instructor Hux like this. But she could not be distracted.

“I’m sorry…,” she sighed deeply, her voice heavy with sorrow.

He noticed the change in her tone and demeanor immediately. She could tell in the way the sound of his breathing changed, from free and loose to clipped and short, shallow, filled with concern.

“Did… something happen?” he ventured carefully, his tone mostly normal with only the lightest, barest hint of worry.

“I just… I got some bad news,” she murmured, shifting on the bed and pressing her free palm into the pink quilt beneath her.

She didn’t want to have to say it out loud, again, for the hundredth time. She wished she could just lay on the bed and fall asleep to the sound of him rattling off facts about physics, or space, or sex positions, just a few of the things she’d learned recently he had studied and researched with a thoroughness that could earn him a doctorate degree in any of the three categories. It amused her slightly to think of the third one: Dr. Armitage Hux – Sex Genius.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he murmured. His voice was soft and low, a comforting, rumbling purr. She wanted to wrap herself up in it, overcome suddenly with the need to be in his arms, pressed up into his chest, feel his legs tangled up in hers, and cling to him for dear life.

She missed him so much.

“Yeah… it’s… it’s about my father,” Rose began, timidly. Their relationship was still rather new, a fresh budding baby flower that had to be treated with tender care. How would he feel, having to listen to her problems? Would he care?

“Tell me,” he all but ordered, sounding calm and serene, still.

He seemed strong, a fortress she could retreat to. Rose flooded with grateful relief as tears pricked her eyes. He listened so well, stoically quiet as she complained to him: griped and moaned about how her parents had refused to tell her something this important, that Paige had even lied to her face and had the audacity to be angry that she had lied to her as well, that the universe was so unfair to take her father away from her, and now of all times, when she had a budding career, a chance of a lifetime, and she was actually doing well with it.

“And that’s what bugs me the most… I just… I can’t get over how angry I am that this could not have come at a more inconvenient time. And it makes me feel like shit that I feel angry about this. A good daughter would drop her career like a hot potato and rush home, but the fact that I’d be denying myself something I’ve longed for my entire life… it just fills me with rage,”

She paused to take a breath, realizing she’d been rambling. He did not speak, but she could hear his gentle breathing on the other end of the line.

“Sorry… I was rambling…,” she murmured through pursed lips.

“You had to get it out. Don’t apologize,” he replied gently.

She felt a resurgence of that feeling she’d started to name earlier that day, when she’d hid in the bathroom to read his texts. Love.

Which made this part all the more difficult. Her heart was already so burdened, but it was beginning to sag under the weight of this new thing she had to say to him.

“I-… I don’t think I can come back to New York for a while,” she confessed, her voice so small.

He was silent on the other end of the line. He wasn’t even breathing.

Then, after a moment: “That’s a terrible idea.”

Rose frowned, sitting up straighter on the bed, her pulse quickening.

“It’s… what… why is it terrible?” she demanded, becoming instantly defensive. “He’s my father. I’m not going to live halfway across the country when he’s sick! That’s ridiculous.”

“No,” he retorted, his voice now taking on a biting tone. “What’s ridiculous is that you are throwing away a career most other dancers would kill for, when you are one of the only dancers in this entire bloody nation who could actually be good enough to become legend.”

Her cheeks burned with the intensity of his compliment. She brushed it aside.

“Things happen, Hux. Life happens. Shit happens. And right now, I’m living in shit.”

He scoffed at her over the phone. She imagined him rolling his eyes, his thick, ginger brows knitting together, his jaw clenched tight. She knew all his physical tells. She could trace them down on a map from memory.

“Don’t be so dramatic. People die all the time, parents included.”

Rose stilled with horror, flooded with sudden disgust at his lack of sensitivity.

“What the-… okay, so that was harsh. You’re a fucking maniac,” she blurted out before she could help herself, the stress and anger of the day building rapidly within her, heart hammering so hard in her chest she wondered if it might pop right out of her ribcage.

“That-… I didn’t mean it insultingly-,”

“No, of course you didn’t. It’s just my father _dying_ , how dare I _be so dramatic_?” She mocked his tone and his accent, butchering it, but she didn’t care.

“Rose!” he cut in, exasperated and angry himself. He sounded tired. “I did not mean-.”

“You know what… I don’t need this right now. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She hung up on him.

She’d hung up on him…

The man she thought she loved…

She’d just wanted to hear his voice. She’d just wanted to feel his arms around her. She’d just wanted to feel comforted and safe and warm and loved.

The phone fell onto the mattress with a soft thump as her eyes welled with tears. She kicked off her converse to the floor and crawled up under the pink quilt, burying herself beneath mounds of pillows and blankets, a poor, mocking substitute for what she really wanted: his arms, his body, his voice, his words, his love.

Her phone vibrated near her foot on the bed. She ignored it, crying out her agony and her pain and her anger into a pillow, messy, sloppy crying, fueled by a very runny nose and drooling spittle and hot, streaking tears through the mascara she’d forgotten to remove. She lay there for a very long time, sobbing, while her phone vibrated on and off for half an hour. Finally, he seemed to have given up, and it became still, which only made Rose cry even harder.

She cried herself to sleep, alone, without him. It hurt so much. 

  
  
  



	16. Le Danseur et sa Ballerine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"If you choose living here over returning to him, he will internalize it as a personal betrayal. Not consciously, but he will feel like you have abandoned him.” Paige said warningly.  
>  “You tried, Paige. But I’m not going back to New York. I’m staying here with Baba. Get used to it.” Rose uttered firmly, ignoring her. _
> 
> Hux suffers without his precious flower and Rose struggles with a painful decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Potential Trigger Warning: There is a brief reference to nonconsensual sex done in the past, which is pretty much canonically referenced anyway, cause it pertains to Hux's mother and father. It is not written explicitly, it's just mentioned in one line, but I'm sensitive to people potentially fearing this, so here's your heads up! Also, I've added another kink to the tags, in case it's not your thing and you get squicky. Please read them again before reading the chapter if that might be you!**
> 
> We're approaching the end, my readers. Thank you for staying on this journey with me and these beautiful sweethearts I've come to love with my whole heart. 
> 
> Thanks to [@HellyJellyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/pseuds/Hellyjellybean), [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26), and [ @ElfMaidenOfLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight) for being amazing Betas! 🌹 
> 
> Chapter title _Le Danseur et sa Ballerine_ means _The dancer and his ballerina_ in French. I think you get the meaning.

Armitage Hux could not sleep. This wasn’t abnormal for him, as he’d had many sleepless nights in his life. Especially when there were too many unpleasant thoughts in his head. 

Usually, he’d give up attempting to sleep, rise, and find something to do, typically reading or obsessively plotting out new dance moves to try in the choreography for his job, or studying copious amounts of classical music to find just the right piece for his own ballet creations. However, this night was different.

There was an uncomfortable, knotted feeling in his chest, a slight skimming nausea in his belly, and sweat beaded at his temples, dampening the ginger hair there. He tossed and turned in bed so frequently, that even Millicent had left him, annoyed at his movement, yet still he refused to get out of bed. If he got up and went to distract himself, that felt like a concession of sorts, acceptance of the fact that his conversation with Rose and her subsequent decision to ignore him was bothering him.

As much as he tried to deny it, however, it was bothering him very much, to the point of physical pain. If he allowed himself to think about her, little memories of her dancing across his thoughts like ghostly reminders of her joy and sweetness; her fire, his heart would throb mercilessly in his chest, and a heavy stone of regret would form in his stomach. Hux had never felt this many complicated emotions before. He was a layered cake of feeling and had no clue how to even begin to eat his way through all of it. At the baseline, he was worried sick for Rose , knowing firsthand what it was like to lose a most beloved parent. Added to that was a nice layer of regret at how he’d handled the situation and scared her off. On top of all that was a full line of anger at her stubborn refusal to even try to understand his point of view and where he was coming from. And the icing was pain, fury and misery regarding how she had ignored him, which was what hurt the most. Because on top of that was a heaping sprinkle of need: need to know she was okay, need to hear her voice, need to know he hadn’t hurt her, need to know she was still his, need to feel her in his arms, under his hands, against his body.

Armitage Hux was suffering.

The dark room lit up with the dim light of his phone as he checked it again for the hundredth time. It was three in the morning. She had not replied to any his texts, hadn’t even opened them, as the read receipts confirmed. She had not tried to call him back. She was probably asleep.

He had to actually remind himself, muttering it out loud, that it was too early in the morning to attempt to call or text again, and forced himself to lay his phone down once more on its place on the side table.

Besides… calling her this much was beginning to make him look desperate. Perhaps she didn’t actually need him.

Perhaps they were done before they’d even really begun.

He didn’t want that. But Armitage Hux was used to disappointment. He was used to people surprising him and inspiring him and then letting him down. It was all people ever really did. It shouldn’t shock him that Rose Tico would turn out the same way.

It was this depressing and melancholic admission that finally gave Hux some mental release enough to allow him to drift into a fitful sleep. Though when he did, he dreamt his father had discovered his love for a girl, and he mocked him for it mercilessly after every blow that he rained down upon him.

When Rose awoke the next morning, it was to the sound of heavy, pouring rain outside and a pounding headache threatening to burst out of her skull. Her eyes stung with yesterday’s tears, and she lay in bed a long while, staring at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge that she needed to get up and do anything. She was perfectly content to pretend she could lay in bed forevermore and never have any further responsibilities, cares, or worries.

That is, until she stretched her leg and accidentally knocked her phone off the bed with her foot. It clattered to the hardwood floor.

With the sound came memories of Armitage, of their phone call the night before, of what she’d done to him, how she had ignored him. Of what he’d done to her, what he’d said.

Torn between feeling self-righteously angry and overwhelmingly guilty, she reminded herself that Armitage was a fragile person despite the front he kept up, fraught with issues from his past, issues she had helped him to overcome. Perhaps his harsh words had come from a painful experience. She worried her lashing out last night could have caused irreparable damage to his character, and if not that, to _them_. He’d come to trust her over their time together and she’d thrown it in his face.

Feeling her eyes begin to sting again with unshed tears, she forced herself to think strong thoughts, and leaned halfway off the bed, clinging to the mattress, stretching out for her phone. Nestling back safely between the pillows, she unlocked it, taking a steadying breath to prepare herself for what she might find.

He had tried to call her four times: once immediately after she had hung up on him, and a few times in the following half hour before he’d given up. She also had seven unread text messages. She read them then, her stomach an open maw, aching with regret.

**Call me back.**

**How dare you hang up on me. CALL ME BACK.**

**You’re being awfully petty.**

**I need to know you’re okay.**

**Rose, please.**

**I do miss you. I need you to call me back.**

**Rose, I’m sorry.**

She hadn’t wanted to become a messy puddle of tears again, but how could she not? She pulled the phone against her chest and choked back a sob, folding her arms over it as if somehow this were a cheaper substitute for him, and she could absorb all the feelings he had for her through the contact to his words. When she felt strong enough not to die from the action, Rose rolled over onto her side and tapped out a reply to him, pausing every now and then to wipe tears from her eyes.

**I’m sorry, too. But I have to stay here for a while. It’s not a goodbye, I just…**

Then another: **He’s my baba. I can’t come back yet.**

And finally: **I miss you so much.**

Her phone was about to die, having not been charged all night. Rose plugged it into the charger at her nightstand and sat up, drying her eyes on the sleeve of the dress she’d slept in. It was time to reset herself, force herself to work through the pain, and Rose was determined to do it right. First things first, she desperately needed a shower.

Rose inhaled the steam and rubbed the warm water into her closed eyes, feeling as if every dark and terrible feeling were rinsed off her and swirling down the drain, making a clean, new slate for her to live through another day. The hurt was still there, the pain still present, but like shedding leaves of fall and passing into winter, spring, summer, she renewed her mind and physical body, focusing on compartmentalizing her feelings to keep a better hold on her sanity.

As she left the bathroom, a towel on her head and her old Hello Kitty bathrobe wrapped around her body, she slid into her room and stopped, surprised to find Paige sitting on her bed. Rose’s cell phone was laying before her on the bed as well, still plugged in, the screen dark.

“Were you… looking at my phone?” Rose demanded bitterly, hurrying across the room to take it.

“Your alarm was going off,” Paige uttered smoothly, not making a move to get up from the bed. “I came in to shut it off.”

“Oh,” Rose made a sound of understanding, feeling guilty to assume the worst about Paige. She checked her phone for any text replies from Armitage. None yet. Her heart deflated.

“Have a seat, girlie,” Paige pat the bed in front of her.

Rose frowned, eying her suspiciously.

“Why?”

“I wanna talk.”

Paige eyed her seriously, no hint of a smile or laugh on her face at all, not in her lips or her eyes. Rose knew what was coming, but she may as well get it over with. She sank onto the mattress opposite her, clenching her phone tightly in her fist.

“You need to go back to New York.”

Rose studied Paige, noting her genuinely stern expression, her flat lips pulled taut and lean, her eyes hinting at her own deep sorrow based on the situation. She opened her mouth to retort, to reply, to turn Paige down and insist she needed to stay home with them, but Paige raised a finger between them.

“Just hear me out,” Paige began, quirking a brow up at Rose as if to question whether she’d be silent.

Rose nodded, closing her mouth, mollified for the moment.

“This ballet company is everything you ever wanted. You’re a prima ballerina now, Rose. A fucking PRIMA, you wrote so many times in your journal as a little girl that you would die if you never ended up there. And you’re THERE! Our father’s illness doesn’t need to take two lives away.”

That last line made a lot of sense. But Rose was stubborn. She shook her head.

“I’m not done,” Paige bit out at her, holding up her finger again.

“There’s also that boy of yours.”

Rose’s cheeks pinked a little.

“What does Armitage have to do with baba’s illness?”

Paige gave her a deadpan look of annoyance.

“Not baba, YOU.” Paige snorted, rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath about why her sister had to be so dense sometimes.

“I didn’t like him at first, I still don’t really, I don’t trust him, but I have never… never ever seen you so happy, I mean… at least before you found out about baba, but I digress,” Paige paused to take in a deep breath, reaching a hand across the space between them and taking Rose’s in her own.

“Your life in New York won’t wait for you. While you sit around here, waiting for Baba to pass, your life will also be passing you by, and those two precious things you’ve worked so hard for will be gone. And you’ll be left with nothing but empty sorrow… a sadness you cannot fill. It will break you, Rose.”

Paige was starting to make sense, which of course Rose did not appreciate. She had learned from the best how to be stubborn and get her own way, and she was determined not to let Paige’s argument make any sense. 

“You-… you don’t know Armitage. He... doesn’t do relationships, normally. He’ll wait for me until Baba-… Baba is-,” she trailed off, knowing where that sentence was going to end but unwilling to say it out loud.

It made perfect sense in her mind. Perhaps she’d lose her job at the company, but she wouldn’t lose Armitage, right? He could even help her find a new position somewhere. He surely had connections.

“Rose,” Paige began, sighing heavily, her tone mildly condescending, as if she were explaining to a small child why they could not have a cookie before dinner. “It doesn’t work that way. Staying here will likely break your relationship.”

“You don’t know anything about our relationship! Don’t try to psycho-analyze-,”

“If he has any of the issues I suspect he does, if you choose living here over returning to him, he will internalize it as a personal betrayal. Not consciously, but he will feel like you have abandoned him.”

Rose fell silent, her mouth hanging open in mild shock, her eyes wide with incredulity.

“Well, that would be… he’s grown up, he can manage. I love him, I’m not his therapist…”

Paige gave Rose a very sad look then, the corners of her eyes turning down with the weight of her frown.

_ I love him… _

Rose got to her feet quickly, throwing her phone down onto the bed and moving to her vanity table, unwrapping the towel from her head as she did so. Her damp hair tumbled down her back and she took a seat, running her fingers through it.

“You tried, Paige. But I’m not going back to New York. I’m staying here with Baba. Get used to it.”

Paige sighed heavily and swallowed, pressing her lips thinly tight again, then stood and left the room without a word.

A few more days passed, and there was just less than a week left of the break. The Tico’s did their best to try and persuade Rose to return to New York, but she was adamantly refusing, even outright ignoring the conversation until they all got the hint and dropped it. Mr. Tico did not try to persuade her at all, leaving the decision up to his fully capable daughter. He felt he could not be impartial in the conversation anyway, as he would love for his Rosie-Posie to stay home with him, to be nearby, but he also understood the magnitude and importance of having one’s own life. He did try to impress upon her how easily she could support him, even from a distance, in phone calls and letters and visits. But it was hard to digest the impending reality of one’s demise, and even harder to broach that subject with the ones you love, so he never really got anywhere with it.

Rose busied herself with helping around the house, falling easily into her old roles before she’d left for New York: doing laundry, helping cook meals, driving her parents to his doctor’s appointments, and even started something new, taking some shifts to the dry cleaners so her father could have a rest, even if his cancer was not at such a stage that he needed to be off his feet and on bed rest. She liked to do it.

Things with Armitage were tense. They had sort of forgiven one another for how they had spoken to each other that horrible night, but they did not talk on the phone everyday now, and texts were few and far in between.

Rose could feel a tension in his tone, in the way he responded to her: curt, clipped, defensive.

_ He will internalize it as a personal betrayal. He will feel like you have abandoned him. _

Paige was wrong. Psychologists didn’t know everything, and she wasn’t even a full psychologist yet. She still had one more year of studies to go. Armitage didn’t speak to her like he felt betrayed or abandoned. Everything was going to be fine.

Until one night, a Wednesday evening, two days before she was supposed to fly back to New York, Rose could not get him to answer the phone. She was originally supposed to return a little early so she could spend the weekend with Armitage at his place before they had to go back to work, but now that she was not returning, she needed to cancel the flight. Hux had booked it for her, being obsessively thorough about this sort of thing, and she needed some information from him in order to cancel. She had texted him that morning, again at lunch time, and three more times in the evening. He had not replied.

Now, as she lay in her bed, her phone hanging up above her, she glared at the screen listing the numerous calls she’d made to him in the last few hours, all of them unanswered. They went straight to voicemail. He had turned his phone off.

She wasn’t sure why this was hurting her so badly. Her eyes stung with tears as she stared at the stupid screen of her stupid phone, his name in her contacts blurring through the watery sight. It no longer read “The Devil” but was simply his name with a little heart emoji beside it. As Rose studied the little icon, she felt suddenly quite dumb, a rush of shame and regret beginning to overcome her. Maybe Paige was right.

Someone knocked lightly at her bedroom door. Rose turned over onto her side, tucking her phone under the pillow, closing her eyes to pretend to be asleep. She did not want to talk to anyone right now.

The knock came again, more insistent, a firm rapping.

She swallowed, intent on ignoring it.

The door swung inward, creaking slightly on its hinges, and someone stepped into the room, footfalls clacking softly on the hardwood floor. The door closed with a gentle click and Rose’s brows knitted together. She almost sat up to see who it was, finding it strange that they hadn’t just checked on her, found her asleep, then left.

The mattress sank under a light weight and the individual crept up behind her. The smell of soft leather, cool jasmine flowers, light tobacco and spices enveloped her in a cloud and in Pavlovian response, her eyes flew open, prickling with tears, as two strong arms in a black coat, two long-fingered hands encased in leather, wrapped around her middle and pulled her toward their owner’s body as he lay down behind her.

She began crying immediately as her back pressed against the familiar feel of him, his long, hard frame, the curve of her ass tucked into his lap. One of his palms splayed across her belly, the other wound its way into her hair, his arm cushioning beneath her head, and his lips, cool from the night air outside, pressed feathery light kisses to her neck, her jawbone, her ear. He did not speak, but she could hear his voice in the way he breathed, and she trembled in his hold, falling apart, melting into a puddle of relief.

This was what she had needed, what she’d longed for so badly, and she couldn’t even believe he was here. Tears rolled down her cheeks and as he noticed them, he took care of them for her, kissing them away, brushing them with light dabs of his tongue. His hand massaged her scalp in a soothing motion; his thumb brushed her belly in soft strokes. The sound of the leather in her hair, the soft grazing of the material against her scalp, might have been arousing to her in some other moment, but here, in her current state of need, it just felt so much like HIM. The sounds, the smells, the feelings of him all around her: they quenched her thirst for his love.

She could have fallen asleep like that, held so securely by him, but she fought it viciously, clinging to this feeling as long as she could, torn between wanting to talk to him, to turn and look at his face, and remaining like this for as long as possible. She’d stopped crying finally, but he had not stopped kissing her, just moved on to different locations. His lips, warmed now from touching her skin, left little treasured burns of heat on her shoulders, her chin, her collarbone, her nose, her forehead, her spine, her eyelids.

It felt like he was worshipping her.

“I can’t… believe you’re here…,” she finally breathed. It was like breaking a spell. His lips stilled over her jaw.

The soft shape of his mouth dragged up her jawline, tripping into her hair, where he whispered near her ear.

“You needed me… and I needed you, so I’m here.”

_ I want to tell you I love you… _

The thought buzzed around Rose’s head, her heart swelling up as if gathering the courage. She could say it. Right now might be nice. He’d basically already said it, hadn’t he? Every kiss, every touch, even just  **being here** said it.

She turned in his arms, her eyes shining with unshed tears again as his face came into view. He looked so strong and stoic in the dark, his angular face and sharp edges hazy, softened by the blur of shadow. Perhaps he was just some trickster god, sent to distract her from her true purpose, but she didn’t care. She pressed her palms to his cheeks, burning up at the way he was looking at her with a narrowed, possessively-loving gaze, blazing with an intensity Rose was sure she’d never be able to match.

“I love you, Armitage,” she whispered, so quietly she may not have said it at all.

She knew he had heard her by the way he kissed her: reverent yet searing hot, his head turned just slightly to the left so they could fit perfectly together, two puzzle pieces reunited in perfection. His palm pressed to the small of her back, insistently pulling her against him, as if in doing so he could absorb her into his very soul. She whined softly at the curl of his tongue on hers, breaking the kiss to take in a gasping breath, fingers of her left hand inching up his face to drag through his hair.

He never once stopped staring at her, his gaze flicking from different parts of her face, to her hair, her neck, her shoulders, her arms, and then back to her eyes, his own gaze filled with obsessive adoration.

“I-… I love you,” he breathed.

Rose inhaled shakily, looping her arms around his neck and pulling up against him, claiming his mouth for her own, as if she could swallow the words right off his tongue. He rolled her back into the mattress, his light weight falling over her, pinning her down as their kisses became more insistent, more energized. Their tongues and lips wrestled for dominance, sloppy and wet, saliva leaking from the corner of Rose’s mouth as she bit down on his, inciting a rough moan from deep within his chest. It rumbled and purred, and she soothed him by sucking softly over the wound, sighing openly against him as he plunged his tongue over hers.

He pulled away, rising partially above her, and Rose wanted to protest, but his hand went to her mouth, the first two digits, coated in leather, brushing along her damp lip. She noted the darkening look in his eyes and parted her lips to take them in, her stomach churning with delight. The pads of his fingers pressed against her tongue, curled over her teeth, and she bit lightly down as she suckled on them.

His palm cupped her pussy over her panties beneath her nightgown, brushing a slow and languorous stroke over her, and Rose let out a deliciously thankful moan of anticipation.

Someone made a coughing sound in the hallway. Rose grew still, a look of terror in her eyes.

She pushed Hux’s hand out of her mouth and clamped a palm over his, shushing him. Whoever was in the hallway passed on and walked away.

“I-… we can’t,” Rose whispered, her tone aching with need and regret. “My parents’ room is literally right down the hall.”

“We’ll just have to be quiet…,” Hux insisted, breaking his mouth away from her palm and kissing the rounded muscle at the base of her thumb. “No sound.”

Rose’s lips turned up at the corners a little, her first real smile in days.

“I can’t be quiet with you…” she teased.

He looked pleased at that; his lips turned up in the smuggest smirk she had ever seen him give. Her head spun with her feelings for him.

“Challenge accepted.”

He primed her with loving strokes of his hands and long, wet laps of his tongue, her nightgown tented up on his head as he made his way down to her core. She trembled as he inhaled her scent, nosing lovingly against her labia, and squeezed her hand tighter over her lips as he nudged his way in against her to have his feast. His jaw, rough with a few days stubble that she had not seen in the dark, scratched at her thighs deliciously, making her toes curl, and she arched up roughly on the bed as he clamped down on her clit, flicking it with his tongue between little suckling pulls. She couldn’t breathe under the hand she had clamped over her mouth, drawing in sharp breaths through her nose.

When his gloved fingers slipped inside her, one first, stroking slowly through her swollen entrance, then two, curved upward to jab into that perfect spot, she came undone immediately. Unable to help herself, a little whimper leaked out from around her palm, now damp with condensation from her breath, her entire body shaking with the effort to not cry out. He did not stop, but continued to stroke within her, that soft leather dragging and catching on her muscles as they pulsed in their orgasmic rhythm, greedy for a second victory.

The second one hit softer than the first, a rolling pleasure of tingling warmth caressing her body from head to toe. She purred against her hand, relaxing as he began to pull away from her, her arm dropping on the bed beside her so she could gasp quietly for air, her free hand seeking his as he crawled slowly up her body.

His hair was sticking up at all angles, mussed by her nightgown, and Rose could not help but laugh in delight, her fingers tugging through the strands as he reached her face. Their lips met. She could taste herself on his tongue, sticky and slightly bitter, with pungent, spicy undertones. She wasn’t sure if it tasted good, but it wasn’t bad. Hux most definitely enjoyed it.

“Open your mouth, my flower,” he whispered as he pulled away from her.

Rose quirked an eyebrow, watching as he tugged at the glove he’d soiled within her. He removed it, rolled it in on itself until it resembled a thick cord, and met her eyes.

Her entire body flooded with heat as she realized his intention. This wasn’t over. He wasn’t done with her. Her toes curled in delirious anticipation.

She did as he asked, allowing the soft bundle of leather to be pushed past her lips, settling on her tongue. The taste of her was there, a subtle, sexy reminder of how filthy yet lovingly attentive he was as her lover. She bit down softly on the leather, liking the solid feel of it between her teeth.

Rose watched as he disrobed above her, the mattress creaking slightly beneath his weight as he shifted. His clothing hit the floor, including his coat.The only time the care of his clothing didn’t matter to him was when he was bedding her. She loved that his desire for her turned him into a bit of an animal.

Her nightgown came next, pulled over her head, and she helped by shifting her arms, gazing at him with an intense fondness as he tossed the article of clothing away as if it had offended him. He did not make her wait, but lay down upon her, taking her into his arms, so she could feel their flesh together. He kissed her nose, then her bottom lip, his own brushing at a bit of the glove as it stuck out of her mouth, his palms sliding down her body to grip the rounded curves of her ass.

“It’s time we put your dancer’s flexibility to use, my sweet.”

She giggled, the sound stifled by the glove in her mouth, and he caressed the side of her face, hushing her with gentle tones. He lifted her legs in his hands, kneeling before her on the bed, and lay her calves on top of his shoulders. Their eyes met and he smirked softly, turning to press a long kiss to her calve, before leaning forward and down toward her. Rose grunted as the gesture caused her hips to lift, her bottom half coming away from the mattress, feeling a slight pressure in her hips.

“I’m here for you…,” he whispered, the tip of him probing her entrance.

Rose’s eyes closed as he sank into her, torturously slow, the pressure of his broad shoulders causing her legs to swing forward, but at that angle, he filled her, tight and deep, as if he were everywhere all at once. His still gloved palm covered her abdomen, holding her down, and he sank deeper, grunting as she squeezed her muscles around him in response, her head rolling back on the pillow.

“Damn,” he uttered with a tight moan, and Rose pressed her palm over his mouth, tossing him a dirty look.

He smiled under her hand. They stared at one another, lost in their loving gazes, then he began to move.

This was not sex; it was a religious experience. Rose did not open her eyes, choosing instead to heighten the other sensations: the taste of his leather and her cum on her tongue, the feel of his fingers tightening in her free hand, holding onto her for dear life. The feel of his lips under her palm, the sound of the snorting, gasping breaths he took as she made it difficult for him to breathe, the ache in her hips as he thrust into her, slowly at first, then wild with need as the tension built between them. The probing, plumbing depths he reached as his cock speared inside her, deeper and deeper with every thrust, his balls slapping against her cunt. Some hungry, insistent place inside of her sang with his worship, to which she responded with a high-pitched, warbling moan of her own that died on her tongue, buried beneath leather.

She bit down on the glove, hard, as she came, his bare fingers now stumbling over her clit, stars bursting into her vision. It didn’t stop there, but intensified as he sank deeper and kept himself in that singular spot, probing again and again at the buttons within her with short, violently powerful thrusts of his hips; her orgasm was so powerful that tears leaked from her eyes and her back arched off the mattress, a guttural cry of pleasured agony tearing from her lungs only to be absorbed by saliva-soaked leather.

He struggled not to break her as he reached his own peak, coming within her in with crushing rolls of his hips, spilling himself deep inside, his loud cry of pleasure consumed by her hand as she tightened her grip on his face. He struggled for breath, his hands gripping her hips so tightly he left little red indentions in her skin. He stayed there for long moments, holding her still, gasping for air and aching all over from the muscles it took to remain in this position. As his cock began to relax, sated beyond all measure, he slipped out of her and let her fall back to the mattress, collapsing above her on locked elbows, inhaling deep, sweet breaths of air as Rose’s hand finally fell limp from his face.

Her entire body felt as if it were made of gelatin. She did not even try to remove the glove but stared with glistening eyes at the ceiling above her, panting for heavy breaths through her nose, limbs askew around her. Hux took in her visage, grinning smugly to himself, and crawled his way over her, fingers fumbling over her lips to find purchase on the glove. When he pulled it away, strings of saliva broke and slapped messily over Rose’s chin, and he tossed the poor, abused glove to the floor, claiming her mouth in a sloppy kiss.

Rose finally looked at him, her lips pulling in the sweetest of smiles, and he rolled her over and tucked his body against hers, spooning her from behind, pulling her limp body into his and wrapping her up in his arms.

There wasn’t much mess, he’d been so deep, and Hux was smugly proud of himself. They could easily drift to sleep here, and he intended so, reaching for the quilt bunched behind him and pulling it over their forms. They lay in quiet silence a long while, still trying to catch their breath, Rose’s cunt still tingling with after-ripples of her orgasm.

“You… made me speechless…,” Rose admitted, pleased, and turned her head around to meet his gaze over her shoulder.

He kissed her nose, smiling softly.

“You deserve it,” he murmured, pulling her even tighter.

Rose placed her hands on his forearm, feeling so content and sated and warm. This was where she belonged.

The realization made her remember the unpleasant and underlying things they still needed to discuss, uncomfortably acknowledging that she did have her own life now in New York, one with a wonderful career and with a man she hadn’t meant to fall in love with. Now she depended on him. Needed him. It was a little too much to address.

“Why-… why did you come down here?” Rose whispered.

His breathing changed from light and relaxed to tense, shallow, worried.

“Paige called me.”

Rose’s head turned back sharply, eyebrows high in surprise.

“She did? How’d she get your number?”

“Said she stole it off your phone,” he said with a light chuckle.

“That hoe,” Rose mumbled, but her tone was light. “I’ll kill her.”

_ Or thank her… _

“She told me,” Hux began to explain. “that you were being stupid and that I had to come down here and convince you to go back to New York.”

“Of course, she did,” Rose mumbled, sounding more annoyed.

Hux made a thoughtful sound but did not continue to speak. Instead, he pressed his face into the curve of her neck, kissed her once there, and fell silent, nothing could be heard over the sound of his breathing. Rose lay listening to him, enjoying his loving hold for as long as possible. 

After some time, he spoke, his voice so quiet and small, it almost sounded as if a child had spoken.

“When I was seventeen… my mother was murdered.”

Rose stared into the dark of her room, her heart deflating within her chest at the little catch in his throat at the end of the phrase. He continued after a shaky breath.

“My father was the one who killed her.”

He said it all so stoically, so matter-of-fact, but Rose’s heart was breaking, crushed beneath an intense and tremendous pressure. She thought about turning and taking his face into her hands, about kissing him and loving on him until the pain in his voice went away, but he sounded like he wanted to continue. She was terrified to move, terrified to scare him away from these confessions, knowing how difficult they must be for him.. So she waited, heart thumping madly.

He told her the story, the words spilling out of him easily once he’d begun and she lay quiet, a listening recipient, a balm held tight in his arms. His mother had been a young and beautiful dancer in the Russian Ballet. His father was an oil industry tycoon who had his hands in government and war. They had met when his father, Brendol, had been invited to the Russian Ballet by a subset government office of the Soviet Union, to celebrate a deal they had just brokered. They had told him that, after the ballet, he may have any of the female dancers he wished as his companion for the night. He had picked Siryen, a slender, pale, and delicate ballerina who had danced as one of the secondary leads. She wanted nothing to do with him, but Brendol took what he wanted anyway.

Nine months later, she was giving birth to Armitage. Siryen had been kicked out of the Russian Ballet for being pregnant, and with nowhere else to turn, she had reached out to Brendol in desperation. Brendol was not a man known for his pity, but he did help her. He agreed to house her in England, pay all her bills and help her get a job as a ballet instructor in a school, but there were conditions. Once the child was weaned, she would cease to be his mother. Instead, she would see the child only twice weekly in ballet classes that she taught him.

Brendol liked to control things. He liked to own things. He liked to punish things. He ensured that Siryen would agree to this in form of contract, reinforced not by the laws of England, but by threats of his own, meticulously groomed to make sure she could never prove them in a court of law.

Armitage knew his mother only through the ballet she taught him. He’d meet with her twice a week, most times with other children present, and spend the day at her studio, learning the art she had loved so much. He was aware that she was the woman who gave birth to him, but it was not until he was much older that he truly understood her as a “mother”.

Brendol and his step-mother and step-brother had made it very clear that Armitage was unworthy of their love or affection. When he noticed how other kids behaved with their own parents, he asked his mother why they couldn’t just run away to be their own family.

Siryen had responded in fear, and ordered him not to bring it up again.

When Armitage was seventeen, he started applying to ballet academies, intent on escaping Brendol’s household. His father had made it perfectly clear that he was to attend a school locally, to keep his bastard son close. Armitage made other plans.

He told his mother that he was going to apply for school in America and that she needed to come with him. After much persuading, she agreed.

Somehow, Brendol found them out. Two days later, Siryen was discovered in her apartment, violently stabbed to death. Armitage was the one who found her.

Brendol had done it himself, and Hux knew it. His father had bloody tendencies, creepy desires, and had done many a dark and treacherous thing with various, poor individuals the world would never miss. Brendol kept “souvenirs” from each of these murders in a specific location in his home. Armitage was careful to take photos of everything, and then emailed them to the police off a burner phone, which would ensure a proper warrant for investigation. 

Then he ran, fled to America. He did not cry for his mother. 

He learned of his father’s arrest months later. It was world-wide news. Brendol had no allies left, no one to turn to, no one to help dig him out of the pit his reputation and now bankrupt company had fallen into.

Armitage wrote him a letter in prison.

Two weeks after he’d sent it, a news channel reported that Brendol Hux, notorious billionaire turned serial murderer, had hung himself in his prison cell.

Armitage was trembling by the end of his tale. Rose had turned in his arms, her own wrapped tight around his neck, and his face was over her shoulder so she could not read his expression, their cheeks pressed together. She stroked soothing trails of touch up and down his spine as he finished, her own cheeks streaked with tears. Her heart ached for the little ginger-haired boy who had just wanted to know love. Everything made sense to her now, his fear of touch, his fear of performing, his five-billion-foot wall between him and others, the one she had somehow managed to scale, and climb, and knock down.

“I said… what I said about parents and dying-,”

“Shh, no,” Rose interrupted him, her palm flattening on his back and rubbing in soothing circles. “You don’t need to explain. I get it.”

He pulled away from her then, leaning back so he could look at her, really look at her. His face looked so vulnerable, so soft, so broken, it made Rose want to do anything, anything at all, to make that look leave his face.

“If you want to stay here, I understand. If someone gave me the same opportunity… to go back and spend the final days with my mother, I would be tempted.”

Rose nodded, winding her hand up into his hair from behind, stroking him gently. His forehead and nose touched hers and she closed her eyes, sighing. 

“But… you need to do what is best for you. You need… to dance, Rose. When I first saw your audition video, I knew you were special. You cannot allow death to stop you from taking what is rightfully yours. Your father will not love you any less if you go back to New York.”

That last line punched right through her final defenses and into her heart. She felt the ache tear into her soul, awed that he seemed to see into her deepest fears, dispelling them with the simplest of phrases. Her eyes welled again with tears, stinging and burning from all the crying she’d already done. His hands molded to her cheeks, his lips peppered kisses all over her face, and he stroked her hair, whispering soothing, loving words.

_ It’s okay… you’re okay… I’ve got you… _

“I love you, Armitage,” she confessed again, pressing again into him, her cheek turned against his bare chest, her head nuzzling against his throat. “Thank you for coming… thank you for telling me…”

He kissed the top of her head in answer.

“Thank you for loving me…”

She did not love Armitage more than her father, but she did love him enough to know that, by now, she was afraid to live without him. She had come to need him, like air, like water, like nourishment. 

“Isn’t it wrong… to want to be a dancer still? To be so selfish?”

Hux shook his head slowly. 

“No, because you’re choosing to  **live** . Do not encase yourself in your father’s tomb, my darling.”

His logic, his tender gentleness, it was starting to make so much sense. As they began to drift to sleep, neither of them willing to separate from the other, she admitted to herself that she could probably do it, go back to New York, but it was hard to tell the true reason: dance… or Armitage Hux.

“So… Millicent  _ really  _ missed me, huh?” she whispered after a very long silence. 

She felt his lips curl up in a smile from where they lay against the side of her neck. It tickled and sent a shock of delight down her spine. 

“She was positively crying for you,” he admitted.

“I’m sure she was,” Rose mumbled with a large smile. 


	17. Écarté

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I feel like I might lose you._   
>  _"You're smarter than that, Tico."_
> 
> As the story comes to a close, Hux and Rose try to find a way to fit their lives together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@HellyJellyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/pseuds/Hellyjellybean) and [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26) for being amazing Betas! 🌹 
> 
> Écarté from [ this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/) meaning "separated or thrown apart". This might happen again soon. >>'

Hux and Rose left at the time she originally had agreed to. They canceled her flight, however, and Armitage paid to upgrade them to first class, so they could sit together. He did all of this without asking her, aside from confirming with her multiple times to be sure she was actually okay with returning to New York.

Rose hadn’t been sure before, but now that he was here, beside her, reminding her just how much he meant to her, how special he made her feel, she finally had the bravery required to put herself and her needs above her family’s. It helped to know that they all loved and supported her. It helped to know that Paige and Jannah were moving in and would be there for her parents in their time of need. It helped to know that Armitage insisted on getting her a weekend flight anytime she needed to come down and see her father.

She hadn’t asked him to offer that. He’d done it of his own volition, a gesture of love, one that left her head spinning. She’d tried to argue with him, to refuse such an intense and expensive gesture, but when he’d explained where the money would be coming from, and why it brought him such delight to squander it away on her, she stopped arguing.

Perhaps spending his portion of his father’s (given by his stepmother out of guilt after Brendol’s death, not Brendol himself) enormous fortune on frivolous things was a small vengeance, in and of itself.

Friday morning, Armitage loaded the bags into the uber waiting out front while Rose sat in the kitchen, holding her father’s hand, studying him for any external signs of illness.

He didn’t look very sick. He looked much the same, but more tired, a little older, and his hair was thinning a little.

“I hope you get that new part you’re working toward,” he murmured sweetly to her, raising her hand and kissing her knuckles. She could feel the whiskers of his mustache on her skin. It tickled, and reminded her of a time as a child when he’d held her in his lap and scratched her face with his scruff before shaving, causing her to burst into high-pitched giggles.

“I love you, Baba,” she whispered, once more unsure, afraid to leave him. Her heart was aching.

“I love you too, Rosie.”

Armitage appeared in the doorway, the collar of his coat upturned against the back of his neck, his cheeks pink with color from the cool bite of the air outside. He had his hands in his pockets, the one pair of gloves he’d worn to visit her now incapacitated.

The moment Rose saw him standing there, all worry and discomfort at leaving vanished from within. Taking a steadying breath, she leaned forward and kissed both of her father’s cheeks, then stood and moved to join Hux at the door.

Her mother interrupted her first, barging forward and assaulting Armitage with a sudden hug. Her short mother barely came up to his sternum, and he held his arms out awkwardly, his face covered in red, unsure of what he should do or how he should react.

Rose could tell it wasn’t the fact that he was being touched that made him uncomfortable, so she did not intervene, but instead took a precious mental snapshot of the moment.

“Take care of our Rose,” her mother ordered, pulling away and jabbing a firm finger into the middle of his chest.

Armitage cowered slightly before her, a hilarious sight that had Rose snorting back laughter.

“I-… I will.”

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Rose turned to Paige, wrapping her arms tight around her, pulling her close and squashing the air out of her lungs.

“I love you,” Paige mumbled in her ear.

Rose squeezed her back just as tightly.

“I love you more.”

She moved to release Paige, but her sister held fast, turning her lips toward Rose’s ear to better ensure she would not be overheard.

“You keep that boy. I like him.”

Rose’s face lit up red, her heart dancing with joy in her chest. She nodded, waving goodbye to Jannah, and giving her father one last long hug and kiss, before turning toward her future.

On the airplane, she clung to him, and he allowed the contact. There had hardly been a moment in the airport in which his hand was not in hers, and on the plane it was the same, though once they’d taken off, Rose had lifted the armrest between them and slid closer, nestling into his side, her arm looped through his. He accommodated her every move naturally, without second thought or distraction from the iPad in his hand, on which he was studying his copious notes over choreography, beats, and musical changes.

The farther the plane moved away from her family, the deeper the hole in her heart grew, and the tighter she clung to him. By the end of the flight, his iPad had been tucked away, one arm slung around hers as she dozed lightly on his shoulder. He studied her face a long while, marveling at the way just examining her features caused little firing synapses within him to sparkle and buzz with electricity. He made a mental note to study the chemical reactions of the body when in love later; his curiosity needed to be sated.

Upon arrival home, something Rose had thought to herself without even a second thought, she immediately scooped Millicent up into her arms and carried her to the sofa, laying on her back and holding the purring cat on her chest, nuzzling her face into the fluffy scruff of hair at her neck. Armitage handled the baggage, content to allow his two girls to bond. Millicent really had missed Rose very much.

They spent a lovely weekend together, Armitage trying to overcompensate for Rose’s random bursts of tears whenever she remembered that her father was sick and far away and she had chosen to leave his side. He comforted her in whatever way she wanted: cuddling her, holding her, bathing her, feeding her, fucking her. Whatever she requested, he did, doing his very best to convey with all his existence how thankful he was that she had chosen to return with him.

They both lamented the fact that she had to return to the dormitories soon. Armitage did his best to find a way to get out of it, but short of telling the company of their relationship, which was probably not wise, he could come up with very little excuse.

Rose returned to the dormitories Sunday night, feeling very broken up about it. But despite the fact that Kaydel was there, and quite talkative about her winter break period, Rose and Armitage kept up communication all evening long via text message.

There were large communal classes the next morning. They all spent two hours stretching and warming up under the tutelage of Armitage Hux, and nothing could have brought Rose more comfort than this: getting back to routine, with her lover bossing her around on the dance floor, owning his space.

“Your ass is sticking out, Tico,” he barked to her, more teasing than anything, though he did not sound it. Rose did her best to conceal a smile as she tucked her hips in.

And later in the day, during choreography practice…

“Tico! What the hell was that?!” he snarled to her when she’d gotten off tempo, just like their very first day.

Rose tried her best to look contrite as he pulled her out of the lineup of dancers and, just as on her very first day, forced her to dance it alone. But when she had finished, his eyes on her form with a hunger she had never seen before, he did not chastise her, but instead turned to the entire corps group.

“If half of you cannot match Miss Tico’s pristine form in the next two hours, we will be here for three hours more. BEGIN.”

Rose tried not to preen at his back-handed compliment, keeping her eyes downcast to the floor as she skipped around the room to join the other dancers.

But around her were murmurs and whispers, dirty looks she thought she could have imagined. She was glad all the same when class was over for the day because it meant moving on to something that she had missed very, very much, which was her personal one-on-one lessons with Hux.

She slipped into the bathroom, dabbing sweat off her brow and phoned her parents. She had spoken to them the day before, but she had taken to calling them every day now since she’d arrived “home” to New York (something she kept catching herself saying and wondering what it meant).

After a brief conversation with her mother in which she assured that her father was just fine, they were all having dinner, Rose hung up, trying to tell herself to relax and get a grip. Steeling herself, she joined Armitage in studio five.

He was standing over in the corner by the sound equipment, thumbing through song tracks on his phone. Rose stood by the doorway, admiring him from a distance for as long as he didn’t notice.

His hair had already started to fall a little from class, soft strands curling on his forehead, and his hands were glove free, his thin form easily spied upon in the tight spandex of his outfit. Rose marveled at how far he had come. When she’d first met him, he could barely stand to stalk around the studio without wearing that enormous coat of his, his posture so pristine, rod-straight, tall and intimidating. Now he stood mildly hunched over his phone, relaxed, softer in how he carried himself. He only did so around her, so it wasn’t too much of a change, but it was one Rose could recognize, nonetheless.

Her heart swelled with love for him.

When he landed on a song he liked, he lay the phone down on the soundboard table and turned, eyes widening in surprise to find her watching him. He smiled slightly, striding toward her, and Rose followed, meeting him in the middle of the room. She could not help herself, needing to touch him, and placed her hands on his abdomen, fingers cupping his sides, and leaned up on her tiptoes to peck a soft kiss to his lips. It was the first she’d had all day, and it was small, but it sufficed.

He was smirking softly at her, his eyes dancing with glittering mirth.

“This is a lesson, Tico. Please remove your hands from me.”

So that’s how he wanted to play it.

Rose had wondered if he would be able to train her anymore, now that things were so relaxed and easy between them. They’d become so comfortable around one another’s bodies that it was hard for her not to want to jump his bones every five seconds, especially when he’d give her subtle, narrowed looks, or his eyebrows would knit together in frustration, or he’d soften his facial features explicitly for her.

“Yes, Sir,” Rose mumbled, pulling her hands off him and letting them hang at her sides.

“How about,” he said as he started to circle her, slowly. “We play a bit of a game.”

“A game?”

Her eyes found his, giddy to see the mirth was still present in the way he looked at her. 

“Yes, a game. I will give you a task. If you can make it through our lesson and achieve the task successfully, only then may you touch me.”

He stopped directly in front of her after having made a complete circle around her. His hands were clasped behind his back, chin pointed down so he could meet her gaze, back straight as a rod.

“When you say ‘touch me’ you mean…?” Rose trailed off.

“However you would like. Or-… I touch you, however you would like.”

Rose’s stomach flipped and her cunt throbbed a little at the look he was giving her. She could be a well-behaved dancer for a prize. She nodded her consent, the buns on the back of her head bobbing a little with the motion.

“Good. First position then, if you please.”

Rose did as he asked eagerly, her legs coming together as she planted her feet on the floor, holding her arms just slightly in front of her, curved against her belly.

“You will be trying out for the part of Marguerite in two weeks. What do you know of the character?” he asked her, standing near her like a drill sergeant over his cadets, large and in charge, lording over her.

“She’s a prostitute,” Rose admitted softly, her lips frowning. “who fell in love with a man. He convinces her to run off with him, but the man’s father intervenes and sends her away. Her lover thinks she is in love with another, and she dies alone of consumption.”

Hux nodded, his hands forming into fists as he lowered them and took one step closer to her, examining her face for something: signs of worry at having to speak outwardly about death?

“You have already danced the part of a lover. How would your moves differ were you dancing as a courtesan?”

Rose could tell, by the way he was viewing her, stroking his eyes down her limbs, that he wanted her to demonstrate. She pondered his question for a moment, taking it very seriously, and then moved her arms as she slid her foot over into third position, rising on pointe, doing her very best to fill her posture with a relaxed sense of grace and ease.

Hux made a sound, tutting softly, and strode forward. His hands touched to her wrists and he lifted her arms higher over her head, turning her hands just so, adjusting the curve of her fingers. She made a sound of surprise as he slapped a palm lightly to her thigh and ordered that she raise into arabesque.

“Yes, good,” He commended her, stepping back to observe the overall quality of her posture. 

“This role will require your ability to break in and out of sensuality, to draw the audience with a sexual grace, but not too far, then to bend them back with a taste of your love.”

Rose closed her eyes and took his words in, focusing soundly on the concept of feeling herself change and morph into Marguerite. Her chest opened, her arms fell back, and the sound of his breathing let her know he approved. His soft-slippered feet moved around her on the hardwood floor, and she followed him with her eyes.

“Marguerite wears a white camellia on her breast to indicate she is ‘open for business’, and a red one to indicate she is menstruating and therefore closed. The red is also a metaphor for-,”

“Her illness,” Rose finished for him. “Consumption.”

“Yes,” he conceded to her, coming to stand still beside her.

“This dance we are about to explore is Marguerite’s first. It is a dance of exposition, setting the story: she is at a ballet, surrounded by suitors, and angered by Manon, the dancer in the ballet who is a courtesan cheating on her many lovers. In her dance three things are evident: Marguerite longs to find true love, she is sick with consumption, and she is angry about it.”

Rose lowered her leg as she listened to him, falling to her flat feet, studying his eyes as he narrated the scene.

“I… understand if this is too close to home for you, my dear.”

Rose bloomed with warmth as he momentarily broke his little act he’d been putting on, partially for her benefit, mostly to keep a distinct difference between work and pleasure where their relationship was concerned. But this little slip, this little reminder of his love for her, warmed her heart completely.

“I can do it. Don’t worry,” Rose confirmed brightly, giving him a little smile.

He did not look like he believed her, perhaps concerned that in her attempts to paint her emotion about a fictional character’s illness with her body’s movements, it could have adverse effects on her own soul, in thinking about her father.

But he took her word for it and straightened up, nodding succinctly and stepping away from her.

“Choreography, then. Follow me with your eyes.”

Rose watched him as he showed her the moves, paying careful attention, determined to follow through on his promise of their game together. If she could get it perfectly right in the first few tries, and not run out of time, she would be rewarded. Rose liked to be rewarded.

When it came time for her to emulate the dance, she was slightly nervous, not knowing which Hux she was going to get. It had been a long time since he’d had to teach her something overtly new, and the last time he had, he’d been intense and overbearing and bordering on mean. Now that he loved her, how would he respond? Would her dancing suffer due to his love, his inability to speak harshly to her and tell her how she was doing wrong?

Rose should not have feared that. For as she went on pointe and followed through with the first few moves, putting most of her focus on getting the steps and the tempo correct, she was interrupted by a barking order from him to stop immediately. She lowered to her feet, watching him in mild surprise, as he approached her and knelt to the ground before her, prodding at her calve.

“Always with the legs,” he grumbled sourly, and took her leg in his hand, forcing her to grab on to his shoulder for balance as he raised it.

“On pointe, turn your legs _like this_ ,” he ordered, illustrating for her by turning her calf in his hands.

Rose smiled as he did so, remembering the last time he’d handled her so thoroughly during lessons.

“Focus!” he snapped at her, pinching her flesh.

She laughed softly and bit her lip to cut the sound off short.

“I’m sorry, yes… continue to tell me how terrible a dancer I am.”

“Not terrible,” he murmured, and pecked a soft kiss to the inside of her knee before lowering her leg to the floor.

“Hey!” Rose protested lamely as he stood and backed away from her, running a hand through his hair. “You said no touching!”

“I said _you_ were not allowed to touch me. I’m not the one with self-control issues.”

“That isn’t fair!” Rose retorted; her feelings stung slightly, but only because she knew it to be true.

“You’re insufferable. I was just trying to do my job when you came into my life and started tugging on my cock.”

“And your heart,” Rose murmured, feeling it important to remind him.

“And my heart,” he repeated resolutely.

The way he was looking at her, Rose wanted to tackle him then and there. But she was determined to follow through with this little game of theirs. She was determined to be the “good” one for once.

“Turn my leg like this?” she asked of him, turning her calf as she placed her toe on the floor.

He studied her, eyes dancing with humor, and nodded.

“Try it again, Tico.”

Rose did not end up winning the prize. She came close, but it was a pirouette that knocked her off-balance and ruined the game: she had to spin in place and kick her legs, quite quickly, while also emoting her anger and frustration over being condemned with consumption. But her feelings toward Hux, and perhaps the fact that it was only her first day back as a dancer, prevented her from having any sort of success. By nine pm, an hour before she had to be in the dorms, Hux had called class and declared her the loser of their game for the day.

She had accepted defeat with good grace, and packed up her things, changing into her converse and sliding her arms into her jacket, joining him at the door of the studio hall where he waited for her. When she approached him, he turned and began to make his way into the hall, but she frowned and scurried to catch up, grabbing one of his hands and holding tight to it.

“Armitage… you have to kiss me goodnight here, where no one will see,” she insisted with a pout.

He paused in the hallway and looked back over at her, one ginger brow arching high on his forehead.

“You lost. You don’t get a goodnight kiss.”

“What?” Rose was really pouting then, her mouth falling open in disappointment.

She was all over him in seconds, her arms going around his waist, pressing herself against him, her fingers digging into his spine to pull him closer.

“That isn’t fair! You… you implied sex things, not kisses. I can’t go to sleep without one.”

He was grinning fully, the biggest smile Rose had ever seen him give, and it was so beautiful it almost broke her heart. She swooned with delight as one of his arms wrapped around her and the other tipped up beneath her chin, his thumb and forefinger grasping her jaw with a light pressure.

“I can’t pull anything over on you, can I?”

“No, you can’t.”

“Are you ready for your goodnight kiss?”

“I’m ready.”

She positively boiled with a miasma of emotion: rage, joy, longing, love, and vengeance, as his lips pressed against her forehead instead of her lips. She made a loud protesting grumble and clung to him as he tried to pull away, throwing her arms around his neck now instead of his waist. From this vantage point, she hung all her weight off her arms, forcing him to descend to her level or defy gravity. He was laughing as she pressed her lips to his, up on her tiptoes, but he blissfully caved in not a moment later, giving her a real, toe-curling kiss.

He walked her to the dorm. Rose lingered beside him, wishing she could take his hand, wishing she could kiss him again or invite him up or just fuck the stupid dormitory policy and go home with him. He looked like he wished the same.

“What… happens if I miss curfew?” she tentatively tried.

Hux gave her a very timid smile.

“You lose your job, probably,” he uttered with a mild shrug. “Go upstairs, my love. You can stay with me this weekend.”

Rose burned at his words, finding the strength to part herself from him in his comforting affirmations.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The door closed between them, severing their eye contact for them so neither of them had to.

The next days practice was all together in the mornings, with Hux coaching choreography once more, but the afternoon session saw all the dancers split up. The morning’s class went relatively normal as usual, with Hux barking orders and light insults to those he felt deserving, no kid gloves for Rose, but the afternoon session, everyone was split up. Hux was working with the male dancers who were trying out for lead parts in the new show, while Ben and an obviously pregnant Rey were working with the females. Rose said a mental goodbye to him as she left the room, their eyes meeting for one brief and wonderful moment.

In studio seven, Rose was stretching at the bar with the other female dancers, Ben moving among them and calling out pointers, guiding them on the proper form. The beginning of classes after coming back from a long break were heavy on the format and regulation of typical dance form, though this class was supposed to specialize in a female partnered pas de deux, as the show required that Marguerite dance with a mental shadow, the main character of the ballet she watches in the beginning of the show: Manon. Manon represents Marguerite’s courtesan nature and draws her repeatedly toward the men wanting to shower her with gifts in return for a night in her bed. Marguerite is torn, wanting to run to her new lover, Armand, but drawn back by Manon toward her profession.

It was a scene notorious for being dark and twisted, but artistically beautiful and unique, requiring two full female leads for _The Lady of the Camellias_. Manon’s dancing was challenging and expressive, in some ways more so than Marguerite’s, used as a foil between Marguerite’s desire for love and her pull to her profession as a courtesan.

“So we will have two leads for _The Lady of the Camellias_ ,” Rey finished explaining, her hand on her slightly swollen belly. Ben smiled at her and turned to show the rest of the group their new choreography.

Class went by slowly without Armitage there to distract her. Though, watching Ben and Phasma do the choreography together for the benefit of the other students had its interesting moments. Phasma was far too tall to be a ballerina, meaning that she sometimes had difficulty getting roles. Rose did think, however, that Phasma would be a marvelous dancer, and began to ponder what it would be like to dance the part with her.

She got a taste of it, as Rey partnered them together.

Phasma danced with a stoic charisma Rose had never seen in another dancer. As she was dancing the part of Manon, Rose almost felt overpowered, as Manon would pull and tug and drag Marguerite all over the stage, insistent and almost cruel. In Phasma’s arms, Rose could feel that cruelty, and the sharp pulls of her hands and arms, the rough turns, while they sort of hurt, made it easier for Rose to get into character and fight back with all of her power. She imagined that Phasma was actually trying to keep her away from Armitage, as Manon was trying to pull Marguerite away from Armand, and sometime during their dance, the entire room went quiet. All the other dancers paused to watch them, silent in awe at the raw and very real emotion pouring through their dance.

Phasma threw her to the floor, part of the choreography, and Rose tumbled, barely catching herself on her arms, and she glanced back up at the much taller woman, her eyes narrowed in suspicious curiosity.

That had been a little too real.

She raised to her feet and pushed to pointe, throwing her arms wide, and she stepped in front of Phasma, who did the same, back and forth, until Rose pressed her hands against Phasma’s shoulders and she pushed against her, to back her up again, as part of the dance.

Phasma did not budge. Her glittering ice-blue eyes met Rose’s, and her hands clasped firmly onto Rose’s arms.

“Working hard, I see,” she muttered under her breath.

Rose frowned, trying to pull back from Phasma’s near bruising grip.

“Smart. Hux can’t always ensure you get the lead roles, even if you are his pet.”

She turned and walked away then, leaving Rose swaying on the spot. The dancers around them burst into applause, not having heard the things Phasma had uttered to her, and Rey was practically preening as she approached Rose.

“I think we have our Marguerite and Manon! No tryouts needed,” Rey uttered with brazen confidence, pulling Rose into her arms and kissing her on the head.

“Rey, you can’t say that…” Ben mumbled warningly.

“But it’s true!”

Rose was still reeling from the things Phasma had said to her as she made her meandering way toward studio five, where Armitage was waiting. She was afraid, mostly, afraid that people were talking about her and Armitage behind their backs. How much did they know? Did they know anything? Was Phasma just jealous of her for some reason?

Hux could tell something was wrong when she entered the studio. She did not speak to him, but went straight to the side of the room and dropped her bag on the floor, squatting to a seat on the ground beside the bag and rummaging around within. He walked toward her, coming to stop just beside her.

“I heard that you and Phasma did amazingly well in your pas de deux,” he complimented her.

“Yeah,” Rose uttered distractedly, finding her cell phone and pulling it out.

“Would you feel comfortable dancing with her as Manon?”

Rose glanced up at him, her eyebrows knitted together, a frown quite apparent on her lips.

“Do you… are you pulling the strings in the background to get me this role?”

He looked surprised at that, a little miffed, and his own brows squashed together over his nose, eyes narrowed at her accusation.

“Of course not, unless you consider my tutoring you to be an unfair advantage which… Perhaps it is, but what I choose to do with my free time outside of work is my choice.”

Rose frowned, regretting how she’d said it, as now he was as annoyed as she was worried. She should have just told him what Phasma had said.

“I’m sorry, I just-… Phasma said some things.”

She got to her feet, then, her hands twisting together in front of her, glancing up at him with nervous apprehension.

“What did she say?”

“She said… well, she implied that the only reason I got the roles I did was because of-… well, she called me your pet.”

“Teacher’s pet, more likely,” Hux tried to justify, though his mouth had gone dry. Perhaps he should have told Leia about their relationship. If this got out ahead of him, out of his control, this could have extremely negative consequences.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean she knows about us… romantically.”

Rose let out a deep sigh, her shoulders relaxing somewhat. “I-… I wanted to believe that was true, but she thinks… she thinks I’m only getting these roles because of my relationship to you.”

“Why is that bothering you?” Armitage uttered softly, his tone deep and with a slight edge to it. “Do you think I believe that to be true?”

Rose shook her head emphatically.

“No, no!” she insisted, stepping toward him. Her hands found his and she pulled him in toward her, resting her torso up against his, pressing her cheek to his chest.

He took the hint and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her against him. Rose sighed contentedly at how just this little gesture, this little act of being held by him, made everything seem suddenly perfectly right with the world.

“I believe you are enamored with me as a dancer and a lover, and that you find me talented.”

“I do,” he admitted softly against her hair.

“It’s just… if other people think that… am I really talented? Or are you blinded by love?”

“I am not blind, Rose,” Hux uttered firmly. “I am thirty-five years old and have been dancing since I could walk. I know genius when I see it.”

She pulled away from him, not because she did not believe him, but because she was still nervous. She was chewing on her lip as she went to the bar, beginning to run through some basic stretches, hoping to take her mind off of things. Hux watched her from the place she had left him standing in, lost in thought.

It felt like things were changing, to him. It was a scary feeling, something he didn’t quite want to approach. But he could not simply continue to believe and think that life would ever be the same, now that Rose was in it. He had to decide whether he wanted her to remain in his life for as long as possible, but that was an easy choice. He knew that he did. Hux did not waver, he did not struggle to decide if something was worth his time. Once he knew, he knew, and he was perfectly comfortable in admitting to himself that he wanted Rose to be his until the very day of his death. What was more difficult to address was how to make that possible.

He was an instructor because he could not dance. Since Rose had come into his life, she’d proven him wrong in that: he could dance. It still hurt, very much, it was painful to do so. When his mother had died, he had made an unconscious pact with himself to avoid dancing at all costs, cutting that out of his life as one would cut a tumor out of an organ, to prevent it from festering and growing into something painfully unmanageable, something life-threatening. Despite being able to set his feelings aside and dance for her, for the woman he loved, he was resolute in the fact that he would never do it again. But he doubted that he could remain her instructor for much longer if he were to keep her.

She paused in her motions and looked back over at him, her gaze curious and soft. She lowered her leg and arms and gestured for him to come to her, a soft wave of her hand, an invisible string tied from her pinky to his, and as she pulled on it, he obeyed and crossed the distance between them.

They should practice the choreography. They should go to the center of the dance floor, and he should tell her what to do, show her how to continue to be amazing. But he could tell by the look in her eyes that was not what she wanted nor needed.

Instead, his arms went around her, and he pulled her close. She sighed deeply as he did so, as if he were fulfilling her every wish in this minute motion.

“I love you so much it hurts…” she breathed.

His heart throbbed with aching need for her, yearning to take away her pain.

“How do I make it stop?”

She trembled as she turned her face up to his, her palms raising to cup his jaw, her skin cold to the touch.

“I -… I don’t know,” she admitted, her heart fit to burst in her chest. “I feel-… I feel like I might lose you…”

That was the cancer talking, the one that had latched onto her father and begun to eat away at Rose’s happiness. The bubble they’d been in only a few weeks prior had popped, and Rose’s sunny view of the world was started to fade and discolor with strong doses of reality. She feared many things now, mainly the threat of loss that hung over her like a storm cloud. She did not doubt Armitage’s love for her, but the steady reminders that their relationship was not in the most secure of places was beginning to hurt.

“That is preposterous,” he uttered heatedly. 

“You’re smarter than that, Tico.”

Her lips tugged into a little smile, beside herself.

He lifted her then, as if it were so easy, his hands scooping beneath her thighs as she wrapped them around him in response. She giggled as he pressed her back into the mirror behind, her ass coming to rest on top of the bar, his eyes narrowed on hers as he leaned in to hover over her lips.

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. If you try to leave,” he paused as if considering for a moment. “I’ll only come after you. I’m afraid you made a very terrible mistake in coming onto me.”

Rose was grinning fully outright, her fingers carding through his hair.

“As if I’d try. You’re mine, Hux.”

“Now you’re getting the picture…”

They both knew they shouldn’t do this sort of thing in the studio, but love makes fools of even the smartest individuals. They were lost in their feeling for one another, hungry to feel loved and sated, fulfilled, two parts fitting together into one whole.

The onlooker watched from the doorway as the ballet instructor made out with his student, every little sigh, giggle, moan, and rumbling growl digging the knife deeper beneath her skin. She couldn’t believe that Kaydel had been right in what she’d hinted to her in a text message over the break: the new little miss perfect Prima was screwing the boss. It was hard to deny that Rose had any true talent. Anyone with eyes and a brain could see that she was a brilliant dancer. But it wasn’t fair that she had swooped in, at the last minute, and claimed a lead position, simply because Armitage Hux was obsessed with her. It was unethical, wrong, treacherous even.

And Armitage Hux was an asshole. Everyone knew it. Rose Tico needed to be saved from him.

Phasma snapped a few photos before slipping away, sure if she stayed any longer, they would begin to notice her presence. She had the evidence she needed, and she planned on using it. 


	18. Entrelacé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Urgent** message from Leia Organa-Solo to _Armitage Hux_ and _Rose Tico_ :
> 
> **There is an urgent matter we need to address. Meet me at the studio at seven am, please.**
> 
> Rose and Hux must deal with the fallout of their choices and find a way to be together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this story is coming to a close. I truly have enjoyed sharing it with you, lovely readers. 
> 
> As usual, I have some people to thank: 
> 
> Thanks to [@HellyJellyBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/pseuds/Hellyjellybean) and [@SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26) for being amazing Betas! 🌹 
> 
> Thanks to [ @ElfMaidenOfLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight) for helping me work through the plot when the characters changed their minds about what they wanted to do with their lives. Pesky characters. 
> 
> Chapter title Entrelacé from [ this list of ballet terms](https://ballethub.com/ballet-terms-dictionary/) meaning "interlaced". Another ballet move, here it simply means that two are woven together into one, interlaced in fate and love.

Saturday morning, Rose was the one who was unable to sleep. She was laying partially propped up on her pillow in the early hours, the sky outside still dark through the slightly opened curtains. Beside her lay Armitage, sleeping dreamlessly. His features in rest were so precious, and Rose realized with marveling wonder that she was probably the only person in the entire world who got to see him in such a state. His eyelids, a pale and creamy lilac, were smooth, his light ginger lashes rested delicately against his skin. His lips pouted a little, pushed forward by the press of his cheek on the pillow, and he breathed so evenly, so gently, Rose took comfort in the steady sound. He was on his side of the bed, a little space between them, but his hand was on her arm and had been for the past few hours. Rose was very careful not to move in such a way as to dislodge him.

On her cell phone she had an old article pulled up, the title of which read “Oil Industry Tycoon -GUILTY of Murdering Ballerina Beauty”. Aside from the fact that the title was ridiculous, the kind designed to incur monetary value off someone else’s tragedy, she was glad to have this little glimpse into her lover’s past life. It had occurred to her, after a strange dream she’d had in which a faceless woman with red hair was dancing the role of Manon with her on stage, that a google search may prove beneficial. It had worked. So far, she had learned many things about Siryen.

She had been an orphan, one who used to perform on the street, circus style, before being noticed for her flexibility and extreme grace by a scout for the Russian Ballet. She’d spent the entirety of her life there after that, from the age of seven all the way until she became pregnant at the age of twenty-six. There were many gaps in her life after that. Lots of articles wrote her relationship with Brendol as if it were consensual. Rose hoped that Armitage had never read any of these.

There was little information about Armitage. He had managed to remain out of the public eye for the most part and was only briefly mentioned a few times as the lovechild Brendol and Siryen had fought over. She found an article about Armitage’s early start as a dancer in a company in New York. It was not a pretty review, calling him scared and too shy, unable to express himself on stage. It filled Rose with rage, knowing that it had probably taken all of Armitage’s strength to try to dance after his mother had been murdered, and this one review had probably been the single nail in the coffin that ended his career before it had even begun. The next bit of information she could find listed Armitage as the choreographer of a show at the Skywalker & Solo company, fifteen years prior. He had never danced again, at least until her.

She gazed back over at his sleeping figure, her heart swelling with painful adoration in her chest. It felt like this a lot, lately, as if it might explode into a million fractals of light and feeling. Typically, that meant she had to get her fix of him or she’d burst. It helped to extend her hand over and lightly brush at the feathery tips of his ginger hair, watching it fan out in a fluffy arch over the top of his head. She was suddenly tempted to wake him, roll him over and climb on top of him, surprise him with the love of her body.

But Armitage was never to be woken, he slept so little. Instead, Rose kissed her fingertips and pressed them to his cheekbone, ever so gently, afraid that if she leaned over to try and kiss him herself, the mattress would shift too much, and he would wake.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. She turned to look at it, just as Armitage’s phone also vibrated, rattling across the nightstand with a loud rumble. She checked to make sure the sound hadn’t woken him, then turned to read the notification.

It was from Leia.

**There is an urgent matter we need to address. Meet me at the studio at seven am, please.**

It was a Saturday morning. What did Leia need to speak to her about that couldn’t wait until a normal business day?

Rose checked the clock. It was five am. She had two hours.

She read the text again, trying to analyze it for further context. Urgent matters… meetings on a Saturday…

Her heart leapt into her throat as something occurred to her.

“Armitage… wake up,” she murmured, dropping her phone to the mattress and rolling toward him, carding her fingers more firmly through his hair.

He was awake in seconds, always a relatively light sleeper, but his eyes struggled to blink open as he lifted his head, drawing in a long breath through a small yawn.

“What-… what is it?” he mumbled, his voice groggy with sleep.

“Check your phone. You just got a notification.”

He grumbled slightly, turning over onto his side, away from her, letting out a gruff and heavy sigh.

“A notification…? Just go back to sleep…”

“It’s important!” Rose insisted, pressing herself into his shoulder and patting his arm insistently. “I might be wrong, but I think something bad is happening.”

He reached out for his phone then, inhaling another heavy sigh, and pulled it toward him, unlocking it and blinking blearily at it in the sudden light. Rose pressed close over his shoulder and read it as well.

It was the same text message, word for word, but asked him to arrive a half hour later.

“Shit,” Rose muttered under her breath.

“What’s wrong?” Hux asked as she pulled away from him.

“I got the same message.”

Armitage could hear the sudden worry in her voice, the trembling terror, and immediately sobered up out of sleep, rising and turning to reach for her. His large hands cupped her, one on her cheek, the other her waist, and he pulled her toward him as he rolled over her, his gaze intently locked on hers.

“Hey, no panicking. We don’t know what it’s about. It could be anything.”

Rose gave him a sardonic look that basically said _You’re smarter than that_ , but allowed herself to be caressed, sighing at the feel of his lips on her cheekbones and nose. His body radiated the warmth of sleep as he leaned upon her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was hard to feel anything but safe when he was holding her.

“I left my father in Houston to be a dancer. I don’t want to lose-,”

“Rose,” Hux said, his voice cutting her off with a ringing note of authority.

She fell silent and studied his expression, hands still on his shoulders.

“It might be about the show. It might be about Rey and Ben. It might be a new opportunity… maybe Leia wants to promote you, wants us to work together. It could be anything.”

Rose worried at her bottom lip with her teeth but nodded, doing her best to banish the nervous feeling that was beginning to take shape in her gut. He did his best to distract her, kissing his way down her throat and fondling her breasts beneath the large t-shirt she wore, but was forced to concede defeat when Rose insisted she needed to pee and pulled away from him.

An hour and a half later, after a warm cup of tea and a refused breakfast, a quick shower and a little snuggle on the couch with Millicent, Rose was walking to the studio. Both she and Armitage found it to be best, instead of him dropping her off. It was only a few blocks away, regardless.

Her cheeks were cold with the frosty air, small snowflakes dusting her hair, as she approached the studio and entered the lobby, pulling off her fuzzy yellow mittens to punch in the code. The door swung inward, and she made her slow and steady way toward Leia’s office on the first floor.

Her knuckles rapped on the door.

“Come in,” a gentle voice called.

Rose sank into one of the soft blue armchairs set up in front of Leia’s desk. The woman herself sat at the desk, arms folded regally over one another, and she smiled kindly at Rose while she sat. Rose was relieved to find that Leia’s face did not seem to reveal any negative expression.

“Good morning, Rose. I hope you’re well.”

Rose smiled and nodded, shifting her shoulders to remove her coat. The room felt a little warm. She lay it across her lap and met Leia’s gaze.

“I am well, thank you. Just… curious as to why I’ve been called here.”

Leia’s smile faltered. Rose’s stomach swooped heavily.

“Well, before I bring that up, would you like anything? Coffee, tea, water?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Leia nodded; her lips pressed into a thin, resolute line.

“Alright. Then I’ll begin. I have some… things to show you.”

Rose watched as Leia pulled out a drawer in her desk. Her slightly wrinkled and older hand disappeared beneath the wooden surface and reemerged with a manila envelope. She lay it on the desk and lifted the corner to open the flap, pulling some photos from within.

Rose felt a swoon of nausea as Leia lay the photos out one by one before her on the desk.

There were photos of her and Armitage, from a few nights prior, captured by someone in the studio, someone who had been there, watching them. She was seated on the bar, her legs around him, her hands in his hair, his mouth on her throat, and her expression… it made her stomach sick to think that someone had witnessed such a private event and thought to take a photo of it, regardless of the intent. It felt rather violating, to see such evidence laid out before her. Her eyes began to well with tears, either from anger or fear or disgust, she wasn’t sure. She refused to meet Leia’s eye.

“So… as you can see, this matter is quite delicate,” Leia began, her tone carefully gentle.

Rose swallowed a hard lump in her throat, feeling a hot tear burn a trail down her cool cheek.

“My greatest concern here is that you have been manipulated by Instructor Hux in some manner, and so I apologize that I must question you.”

Manipulated? Did she mean…?

Rose’s eyes widened with horror and she shook her head, opening her mouth to speak up immediately, to set the record straight, but Leia held up a hand to silence her.

“Armitage Hux is a genius. He has made my company a lot of money, and so I put up with his cantankerous qualities quite a lot. But what I will not put up with is licentious behavior with my dancers. You must be honest with me, Rose. Did he promise you a position in the ballet in exchange for sexual favors?”

Rose’s heart leapt up into her throat, beating hard and fast like a fluttering, panicked bird. She shook her head, eyes wide in horror, and gripped the wooden armrests of the chair firmly under her fists.

“No!! Absolutely not, he never-,”

“Did he proposition you? Did he threaten you?”

“No-,” Rose cursed that she wore her heart on her sleeve, so quick and easy to tears, as she was finding it hard to speak through the sudden swell in her throat, as tears began to pour in earnest down her cheeks. “No, no he would never.”

“I find that hard to believe.” 

Leia spoke honestly, her tone firm. “I’ve been watching you since you began to dance together. I know you meet here late in the evenings for private lessons, ones he should frankly not be giving you, even in his off hours, as it shows favoritism.”

“Mrs. Organa-Solo, you _need_ to know that Armitage is not-,”

She broke off at the sight of the raised brow Leia gave her at the sound of his first name leaving her lips.

Rose hiccupped on a breath and leaned forward, her hands clasping the edge of the desk, now feeling quite desperate.

“None of that is true. I love him very much. He-… he isn’t… he isn’t like everyone thinks he is-,”

Leia looked insanely skeptical. Rose was beginning to panic further. She needed her to see that Armitage was wonderful, brilliant, kind, strong, determined, not a predator.

“But if he used his power in an untoward manner, then he-,”

“I came onto him!” Rose all but shouted, her voice high-pitched with terror. “I did. You can ask him. I started it… I couldn’t-… couldn’t help it and I’m sorry. Please don’t punish him.”

Leia looked quite surprised at this revelation, as if anyone as sweet and innocently cheerful-seeming as Rose could ever want to be with someone like greasy, angry, vile and feral Armitage Hux.

“He tried to stop me… tried to deny me. But we’re… it isn’t just sex we-,”

Leia had the decency to look uncomfortable then, shifting in her seat. She cleared her throat, thrumming her fingers on the desk, casting her eyes downward at the photos before her, then away again, examining Rose’s face.

“So, you’re telling me that he promised you nothing?”

“No, ma’am. Aside from tutorial lessons, but I asked him for those, too.”

“And you would swear all of this in a court of law?”

Rose almost fainted at the sound of that slight threat. Certainly, Leia couldn’t make this a legal issue if Rose was firm in denying her victimhood. The very idea that her love for Armitage could be getting him into such trouble was driving her up the wall with worry.

“That is not necessary,” she uttered, her tone dark with a twinge of anger. “I am not a victim. He has been nothing if not… respectful and kind to me. If he broke any rules, he only broke those of ethics as an instructor. As a man, he has had full and utter permission to do everything that he did… with- with me.”

Silence descended between them. Rose felt snot beginning to build at the end of her nose and ducked her head, dabbing it with the sleeve of her sweater. Leia, looking at Rose now with quite the pitiful stare, offered her a box of Kleenex. Rose took a couple and blew her nose softly, drying her eyes, even though tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

“I will need to confirm this with him. He will be arriving shortly.”

“I know,” Rose mumbled, seeing no reason why she should hide it now. “I was-… with him when you texted us.”

The look of surprise on Leia’s face was almost worth it. Rose could practically hear her thoughts across the table: Armitage Hux spending time with someone, as a lover, as a companion? It certainly didn’t seem to fit the typical judgement passed on him by those who knew him professionally.

As if summoned by the confirmation, a soft knock was heard at the door. Rose glanced at it, her eyes pained, and covered her mouth with a hand to keep in a sob. She looked away as Leia called out for him to enter, afraid that looking at him would cause her heart to break all over again.

“Good morn-,” the automatic greeting died on his lips as he stepped into the room and took in the situation.

He spotted the photos, first, and then his Rose, who was hunkered over in her chair, a tissue to her face, refusing to look at him. Armitage took a deep, steadying breath through his nose, somehow not surprised in the least, and somehow extremely calm. He shut the door behind him and strode to the free armchair, sinking into it and placing his gloved palms on the arm rests, crossing one leg over the other, sitting very much like he were emperor of the world and had nothing to fear.

Leia studied him carefully. Rose sniffled in her seat.

“Did you use your position of power in an untoward manner with this dancer, Hux?” Leia went straight for the jugular.

Armitage was most certainly not surprised that this was the accusation she was going for. He glanced over at Rose, who flinched, pondering for a moment what Leia would do if he reached across the space between them and took her hand.

“What have you told her, love?” he whispered gently to Rose.

The sound of his voice, his mild admission, gave Rose the courage she needed to look up. Her eyes were red, rimmed with tears, but she gave him a little smile.

“Answer the question,” Leia insisted, her tone wavering slightly at this raw and honest exchange.

“I did not.” Armitage uttered resolutely, his tone firm and clear. “Rose is an immaculate dancer and a wonderfully strong and sweet young woman. She earned the role of Juliet by her own strength. I did instruct her privately, but I believe what I choose to do on my own time, outside of company time, is my business.”

“It still shows favoritism!” Leia interjected, her biting tone having returned. “Have you ever offered to tutor any of the other dancers?”

“None of the other dancers have been brave or foolish enough to ask,” he countered acerbically.

Rose could not help but smile a little at that, a soft breathy laugh leaving her.

“Even so…,” Leia grumbled, pressing two hands over her eyes, massaging her forehead with her fingertips. “You cannot… and I repeat, CANNOT become involved with the dancers. This is the perfect recipe for disaster.”

“But what about Rey and Ben, your own son and daughter-in-law!” Rose interjected angrily, wiping away another hot tear. “What about them? How is that any different?”

“Ben and Rey were both dancers, equals.” Leia retorted with a fiery edge in her voice. “They fell in love as equals and got married. Only after that did they earn promotions. Regardless of what you say to me, even if you did not use your position in an untoward manner with Rose, it _looks_ that way.”

Leia paused to take in a deep breath, the sound shaky, but resolved.

“Which is why I have to give you an ultimatum. You either break up or you’re fired, Hux.”

The world was spinning beneath Rose. She clung to her chair, the tears suddenly stopping, but only because she was so floored, so stunned, so horrified. This could not be going any worse. She felt personally responsible, and thought of Siryen, that sad, unfortunate woman who had fought to give her son the best life she could give him, the life of a dancer, a life that had been spat upon and bended and tortured from the moment it had existed. And now Rose was just one more cherry on top, another straw to break the camel’s back. She was destroying his very livelihood, when she was meant to protect him, keep him safe, give him a safe place to grow beyond his agony.

“That isn’t fair!” she shouted, rising to her feet, fists clenched, teeth grinding. “You can’t make him do that!”

Leia breathed in a steady sigh, as if steeling herself, preparing herself to face Rose without anger.

“There is nothing more to be done. The other dancers have noticed and now there is no way, short of firing him or you leaving.”

“Demote him to a dancer!” Rose offered by way of retort, her face screwing up with her fury. “Or… or I’ll quit, I’ll leave. Or just… something, anything!”

“Hux as a dancer? I need him as an instructor-,”

“If you need him, then why make him-,”

“I quit.”

The two words were uttered with a graceful finality from a pair of lips attached to a man who was rather calm, for the tense scenario he had been dragged into. Both women froze and turned to look at him, eyebrows high on their foreheads in shock. Rose was studying him as if he’d just said he was going to jump off a bridge.

But Armitage had never felt more certain about a decision in his entire life. As he watched Rose rise to defend him, becoming feral in her own right, a calm and a peace had descended over him, one like he had never known in his entire life. He could recognize a treasure when he saw one, and that was Rose, the girl who would fight in his corner, have his back, challenge his darkest demons and refuse to back down from them. Finding her, having her for his very own, was worth the loss of anything else.

“You-… you can’t,” Rose uttered softly, her voice breaking, tears beginning to build in her eyes once more.

She was reaching for his hand then, slumped down into the chair beside him.

“Hux… you need to-,”

“I quit,” he repeated, a note of finality evident in the way he emphasized the ‘t’ in the word.

He stood slowly to his feet, taking one of Rose’s hands in his, and gave Leia a long look through narrowed, glittering green eyes.

“You will have my letter of resignation on your desk by Monday morning.”

With that, he tugged gently on Rose’s hand, who stood, and guided her out of the office, closing the door gently behind them. He tried to walk off down the hall, but Rose stopped, dug her heels in, and pulled her hand out of his grasp.

“No!” she insisted. “No, Armitage-… get back in there and tell her you’ll stay!”

He pocketed his hands in his coat as he turned back to face her, his expression impassive and clear. He shook his head slowly.

“Would you like to break up, then?”

Rose shook her head emphatically.

“No but-… but your-,”

“My decision has been made.”

He spoke with confidence, the corner of his mouth lifting as he removed a hand from his pocket and extended it toward her, an open invitation.

“Come home with me, Rose.”

She could not resist him and so took his hand, but she cried silently the whole way home, her arms crossed over her chest, refusing to look at him. When he opened the door, Rose pushed past him inside and stomped her way into the condo, not removing her shoes at the door as she typically did, ignoring his quiet request for her to wait. She stormed down the hall and into the bathroom, locking the door behind her to keep him out, and pulled out her phone.

She called her sister, but Paige did not answer. She called her mother, her father, neither of them answered. She sent Jannah a text message but she was met with no reply.

Rose could hear Armitage in the bedroom, loitering beside the door. When he knocked on it softly, Rose bristled.

“Go away,” she ordered him. She just wanted some time to think, some time to talk to someone else, someone who wasn’t as involved. There had to be a way to fix this.

Armitage knocked again at the door. Rose scowled and dialed Paige’s number again. No answer. She considered even calling Rey, who might have an idea of how to salvage this situation.

Outside, in the bedroom, Armitage let out a little chuckle, and there was a thump and a brush of something fluffy against the baseboard of the door. The object in question made a loud mewling sound, and a ginger paw appeared in the space beneath the door.

“Millicent wants to see you,” Armitage called softly through the door.

Rose frowned as the cat began to meow incessantly, her heart strings tugging. She loved animals, loved Millicent already as if she were her own, like a fluffy ginger baby, and was tempted to open the door. 

“I’ll open the door if you agree to be a dancer!” Rose shouted at him, her finger now hovering over the call button for Rey’s number.

But she could no longer hear or sense Armitage at the door. She stepped closer to it, pressing her ear against the wood, but could hear nothing except for Millie’s little demands to be let into the room.

Rose opened the door quickly, relieved to find Hux gone, and let the cat in, shutting it quickly behind her and falling into a crouch on the floor. She picked Millicent up and scooped her under her neck, carried her to the bathtub and stepped inside, resting into the ceramic tub and cradling the cat on her chest.

“You’re so good, Millicent, so good,” Rose crooned, her eyes stinging with fresh tears. “Your papa isn’t, though. He’s stupid and foolish and refuses to do the right thing.”

“I did the right thing,” he murmured from his place at the door.

Rose looked up at him with a scowl, brushing her hand over Millicent’s ginger fur.

“You didn’t even give me an opportunity to fight for you,” she complained, sitting up and leveling a glare on him. “You made me come all the way back here for my career, and then when it’s my turn to help you with yours, you just… tank it all.”

He crossed the distance between them and knelt beside the bathtub, reaching over the edge and placing a hand on Millicent’s back, stroking her fur. Their fingertips brushed. He glanced over at her.

He did look rather happy, Rose noted with reluctance. His eyes were bright, his lips were upturned, not smiling, but most certainly not frowning. He even looked rather healthy, well-rested, much more human than the first time she’d ever laid eyes on him. It made her heart ache.

“I’ve done everything I can with that company,” he murmured softly. “There’s nothing left for me there.”

“You could dance, Hux.”

“I don’t want to dance.”

Rose frowned sadly at his admission, studying his face for any hint of regret, any disappointment. He looked nothing but calm, assured, confident, and resolute.

“But your mother-…” Rose couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, worried it may break him.

He took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles.

“Would be very happy for me,” he finished for her. “She would very much approve, especially of you.”

Rose was once again reminded of how much she hated her emotional vulnerability, as her already stinging eyes welled up with tears once more. But these were happy tears, she figured, happy tears of contentment at finally accepting being chosen over a career by a man she very much loved. Her skin tingled with fiery warmth as he kissed his way down her wrist and up her arm, his fingers lightly stroking the places his lips touched as he went.

He had come so far in the short time she’d known him. He had healed so much. Rose felt so blessed to have witnessed this, to own this, to be a part of it.

“Are you sure?” she whispered one last time, full of regret.

“So sure.”

Monday morning was strange for Rose, going to class knowing that Armitage would not be there. She went into the studio with her head held high, wondering who was going to know what, hoping that no one knew anything, but of course the loss of the main instructor would be hard to notice. As she stepped into the room, all eyes turned on her, and all conversations ceased.

Rose grit her teeth and clenched her fists, resolving to do her very best, regardless of how people reacted. She met Phasma’s eyes as she crossed the room to hang her back on the hooks of the wall, flashing a look of indignant pride into hers. Phasma just smiled, the gesture slightly challenging. Rose smiled back, keeping it sweet, killing with kindness.

“She fucked instructor Hux…” someone murmured.

Rose sighed heavily, ignoring the comment, and went to the bar to stretch. Slowly, after a few moments, everyone began to do the same. Eventually class began, Ben Solo taking the helm. He explained, briefly, that Instructor Hux would no longer be training them as he was moving on in a different direction.

At lunchtime, Rose sat by herself in the cafeteria, a little bowl of pasta before her and a little mug of tea. Finn came over to her table and sat with her, joined by Poe as well, but everyone else avoided her table like the plague. Everyone was whispering, glancing, talking about her. Or at least it felt that way.

“Is it true?” Finn demanded the moment he’d sat down.

Rose met his gaze with a firmly resolute one, her lips scrunched up into a look of annoyance, ready to be angry with him.

“Is **what** true?” she bit out.

Poe was making a funny noise, his hand slapping on Finn’s shoulder, gesturing toward something in the cafeteria.

“Mother fucker at two o-clock,” Poe uttered to Finn, his tone gleeful. “Hugs himself!!”

The cafeteria had fallen silent, and Rose followed Poe’s gesture, her stomach flipping a million loops within her as she spotted Armitage crossing the expanse of the cafeteria. He was wearing his black coat and his gloves, over a navy-blue cable-knit, turtle-necked sweater and a pair of slim black jeans. He looked handsome, and fierce, and everything that Rose loved about him, as he strode the length of the room and joined her at the table, sliding onto the bench beside her.

He did not acknowledge the pair of dancers across from him.

“It’s done. I’ve submitted the letter. No turning back,” he told her with an airy tone.

Rose frowned but scooted her mug of tea across the table toward him. He accepted it with a smile and took a long, savored sip.

“It’s fucking true!” Finn exclaimed.

Rose glared at him across the table, breathing in slowly through her nose, placing her hand on Hux’s thigh beneath the table.

“No, it’s not true, not what they’re saying…,” Rose frowned, casting a dirty look around the cafeteria. “What _is_ true is that we’re dating, and he had to quit because of it.”

Poe looked like he’d been told he was getting everything he wanted for Christmas, and Finn just looked livid. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it once more, opened it again, and a sound of disbelief, sort of like a choking rabbit, came out of him.

“But he-… he’s a-,”

Rose raised a brow at Finn, challenging him to finish the sentence.

When he said nothing further, she turned toward Armitage and gave him a little smile.

“It’s weird here… without you.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he assured her.

“Rose and Hugs, huh…?” Poe mumbled across the table. “I’ve seen it all.”

“Would you like me to pick you up this evening?” Hux asked pleasantly, pointedly ignoring him.

“Sure,” Rose replied happily.

Armitage finished his tea and Rose her lunch, Finn and Poe awkwardly quiet beside them. When it was time for classes to resume, Rose pulled Hux close and kissed his cheek goodbye, aware that he wouldn’t want to appear too lovey-dovey in front of his former subordinates. He flushed a little but remained steadfastly stern, nodding his goodbye to her before leaving.

That evening he picked Rose up from the dorms and took her home. She missed curfew the next day. Leia chastised her for it and put her on probation for a week. When the probationary period ended, Rose put in a request to live off campus. Rose wasn’t sure why exactly Leia agreed, but she did, and Rose moved in, tentatively, with Hux in his condo.

She got the lead role as Marguerite. Phasma was cast as Manon. Rose congratulated her, determined to kill her with kindness and rebuild the lost trust of one dancer to another. Everyone at the company seemed to respect her more, now that they recognized and knew the difference in Hux. He did not come around much, never one to be sentimental or friendly with people he didn’t much care about, but he did bring Rose things, and have lunch with her on occasion, and he always picked her up, every night, right on time, like clockwork.

No one claimed Rose’s skill was based on Hux anymore. No one thought she was receiving an unfair advantage. Now that he was out of the picture, she was respected, liked, even, well on her way to becoming a lead dancer that would regularly receive love in the academy. Rose hated that Hux had to resign just for this to happen, but he did not seem to mind.

He seemed at peace, which was strange to Rose, much more at peace that she would have ever imagined. He spent his days reading books and listening to music, even taking to helping Rose tend to a new garden in the back, tinkering with the plants and their soils and nutrient needs, designing and installing his own irrigation system to fortify the vegetable patch while she was dancing at school. He seemed content with himself, but Rose knew he would need a job at some point, and worried that he may descend into some sort of depression.

“What do you plan on doing now?” she asked him one evening.

She’d had an extra long practice that day, and Hux was doting on her, doctoring and massaging her wounded feet for her, bandaging them. She lay sprawled on the ice blue sofa, watching him with softened, smiling eyes.

He spread a bandage over one of her blisters with gentle brushes of his thumb, pondering something, then raised his face toward hers.

“Would you like to marry me?”

Rose choked on her tea, spluttering and spewing, sitting up immediately and setting the mug down on the side table, careful to place it on a coaster.

“What?!”

He looked amused, both of his hands wrapped around her foot. He slid one hand up to her ankle and grasped it firmly, his lips quirking up a little in a light smirk.

“You know… be my wife? Legally?”

“This is... quite romantic,” Rose joked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. But her face was bright red, her heart hammering heavy and fast in her chest.

“I have lots of plans,” Hux began to explain, now tugging her down the sofa by the grip on her ankle. “Step one is marrying you.”

“And when were you going to include me in these plans?” Rose asked breathlessly as he leaned over her, planting his hands on either side of her body on the sofa.

“I’m including you right now.”

Rose’s head swam as he went for her throat, plying her with soft kisses, his lean torso brushing down to rest lightly against hers. She clasped his shirt in her fists, raising her chin to give him room.

“Normally the proposal is a little more… romantic than this.”

“Imagine the tax cuts,” he laughed openly against her neck, his warm breath hitting her in bursts that caused her to flutter all over. “We’ll need them if I’m going to open my own school.”

“Wait… what?”

Rose placed her palms against his chest and pushed him off her, her eyes wide. She studied his curious expression, the curve of his brow, the lilt of his smile, the twinkle in his eye.

“Armitage…,” Rose whined softly, her pitch high. “Are you for real? A school?”

“A ballet school.” He agreed with a subtle nod, examining her face for her approval. “For children.”

Rose pictured the little red-headed boy she imagined he had once looked like, standing in a simple ballet studio, waiting for a glimpse of his mother, a moment to spend just a little bit of time with her. Her eyes started to fill with tears.

“Don’t-… don’t cry,” he frowned, taking her reaction to be a negative one. “I thought-,”

“That’s a lovely idea!” Rose cried and threw her arms around his neck.

Armitage sank over her with a grunt, pulled down by her, but let out a soft laugh and pushed himself back up. She begged him for kisses then, nuzzling her lips along his jawline, and he accommodated her, showering her in a million of them, keeping them light and shallow and soft.

“I’ll marry you. But you have to ask me right.”

He paused, pulled up to look at her, examining her eyes for signs of teasing. She looked deadly serious.

“Alright, Tico. Challenge accepted.”


	19. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue to ballet Hux and Rose - see how they live now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I am feeling very sad to end this story and tie-up all the loose ends. I am very proud of myself for completing it, for all the research I've done, for the long hours of writing and editing and plotting obsessively, lol. 
> 
> There are many people who lent their voices to this tale. I thank them all: Cameron Swolo for being a beta, moral support, and intuitive inspiration, Sara for ballet knowledge and skill, Helen for being a grammar QUEEN and helping me get everything straight, Alex for always knowing the right way to say something, for being so intuitive and keen on Hux, and for always being kind enough to lend a listening ear, to Karma for sharing inspirational ballet photos, to Hullupu for commissioning that beautiful artwork, for Steffi for making the beautiful artwork, for all the fans on Tumblr I never got to speak to who made moodboards and art for this story, for Ngoc12theFangirl for helping me with the Vietnamese culture, for Wydja for inspiring me with her romantic ideals and Hux intuition, and for all of my readers. I'm emotional now [I'm usually an emotional person lol] that I'm ending this series, and I just really want to thank all of you for sticking through to the end. I love Hux and Rose, and I hope this story did them some justice. 
> 
> Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> Below is an artwork I commissioned from [Afterblossom](https://twitter.com/_afterblossom_). It's a fitting goodbye to my fictional Romeo and Juliet. I hope you enjoy. ❤️

Healing can be shown in many remarkable ways; a wound can close, a scab can form, itchy and irritated, but when it falls away, new life, new skin, new growth is present. 

A relationship can end a black hole in another’s life; but the space is filled with something new, perhaps not nearly as nice, but over time, it morphs and grows and takes its own life into its hands. An individual with fears and anxieties, unable to see their own worth and value, can find hope once more, perhaps with a little bit of help, with the love of someone else. The love of their soul.

Healing can be shown in the space within which two people live. 

Hux’s home was cold, unfeeling, a formal space for formal life, not a life loved nor a life well lived. Merely a place of existence. But Rose moved in, and the space bloomed into something radiant and warm, full of color and love; brightness all around.

She’d started with the walls, painting them warm and vibrant hues of light blue and subtle, ocean greens. Now, there were plants everywhere: little ones, big ones, leafy ones, spikey ones, and each one had a name. 

Cat toys lay scattered across the carpet at the end of each day, picked out of the basket in the living room by Millicent. Rose spoiled her with love. 

Expressions of Rose’s interests bloomed all around the space, in the colorfully patterned carpet below the blue sofa, in the art hung on the walls of floral scenery and ballet dancers, and in the photos of family, loved ones, along the mantle of the fireplace.

There was even a photo of the two lovebirds on their wedding day. Armitage Hux was dressed in a black turtleneck and blue jeans, his coat over his sweater with the collar turned up against his neck. Rose wore white, a lacey gown that ended at her knees. She was looking at the camera, her expression the happiest she’d ever been, her arm looped around Hux’s waist, pressed into his side. He was looking at her as he held her, his head turned down, eyes intensely focused, his expression yearning and proud and so much in love. 

The picture said a million things, things that Hux could never say to her, could never put into words, they were too powerful, too desperate, too expressive for even the English language to encapsulate.

Their wedding hadn’t been a large affair, just a simple ceremony at the courthouse. The only guests present were her mother and father and her sister Paige and her girlfriend Jannah. No one came for Hux, which broke Rose’s heart, but it was partly why she was marrying him. He needed a family, and she would be that family for him.

The most important part of their shared home, the central focus, the one that had hurt the worst but helped to heal the most, was the bàn thờ. The altar, which Rose kept in memory of her father, who lost his battle with cancer a month after he saw his daughter wed, was set up on a little side table in a prominent place in the living room. His death had been a hard time to get through, but having Armitage at her side helped to ease the pain. It even helped him to see her mourn, as he had never been able to mourn the death of his mother.

A month later, Rose added a picture of Siryen to the altar, there next to her father. She worried Hux would be offended, bothered, angry, but she had come to respect and love the woman she would never get to meet, for bringing such a lovely and wonderful man into the world. 

Without Siryen and her sacrifices, Rose would never have met Armitage Hux. And Rose could not imagine life without him.

Hux had come home, very late one evening, with arms full of groceries. Rose watched him carefully from the couch as he went straight to the kitchen and began to put everything away. But when he turned and came toward her, two bottles of their favorite tea in hand, he paused at the sight of the blown-up image of his mother on the little table, a respectful space next to her father, both images surrounded by rings of fresh-cut flowers. 

He stood there a very long time, just staring. Rose watched him pensively, careful not to interrupt his mood. Finally, after what felt like ages, he finished crossing the distance between them, set the tea on the side table, and sank onto the couch, burying his face into her shoulder and pulling her tightly against his body. 

He was crying, silently; Rose could feel the tears soaking into her shirt. She met the eyes of her father in his frame, her own eyes welling up with her grief, both for the tears of her husband and his loss, and the most recent loss she herself had experienced.. They held one another a very long time and cried, and in this way shared their grieving together.

Over the next year, Hux opened his own school. He named it after his mother, at Rose’s urging, and within two months of opening the _Siryen School of Dance,_ had a full enrollment of children from the ages of two to fifteen. His reputation at the Skywalker and Solo Company gave him an edge, and regardless of what most people in the dance community thought of his personality, they trusted his instruction and tutelage, so his school became quite famous rather quickly.

He was different with the children. Rose noticed this as she took a few days off to watch him instruct, to assist with the goings on at his school. He had yet to hire any staff, stubborn enough to think he could run the place on his own.

He was gentle, warm even; slightly teasing with the kids. He never insulted them, and when he scolded them, it was always with a sense of stern malleability, and the children could almost see right through him. The first time he had made one of the children cry, he’d wasted no time, but grabbed the tiny one by the hand, pulled him aside, and told him in the gentlest voice he could manage that crying was okay but giving up was not, and that he must always try again.

The little boy had been impressed. So too was Rose. It made her ponder all the possibilities of their future together. How Hux might be as a father, though she was careful not to broach the subject, knowing that when one had a father such as Brendol, becoming one could be a horrifying reality best avoided.

They were in love. They were content. They were happy.

Rey and Ben had their baby, a boy they named after Ben’s father, Han. Rey quickly returned to dancing, as soon as she possibly could, but insisted they make room for Rose. From then on, she and Rey shared the limelight of prima ballerina. It wasn’t long before Rey was pregnant again, anyway, and Rose was given the spotlight once more.She was such a gracious young woman, however, and never let it get to her head. 

Hux, Rose’s number one fan, read every single review, every article, and always spoke of her as if she were the most perfect dancer in the entire world. He also burned any negative reviews in the fireplace with ritualistic pleasure after sending strongly worded emails to the authors. While this action was a little excessive, it made Rose’s heart swell with love. 

After every practice day, Rose would gather her belongings and walk, rain or shine, to Hux’s dance school studio. He would always have a student or two left over, but once they’d leave, Hux would continue to tutor her. Over time, the temperature of his teachings changed as Rose’s skill level grew to match and then surpass his own. But, she still delighted in dancing with him, and he loved to placate her, so the tradition stayed in place. It was simply enough to enjoy each other; the beauty and art of being creative in one another’s arms.

One such night, as Rose entered the studio, paused to change into her pointe shoes, and slipped down the little hallway into the main dance room. Hux was alone, all of the children having already gone home. He had a song on, a beautiful, lilting piano composed by Claude Debussy titled _Arabesque_. He stood at the bar near the mirror, stretching in his black spandex uniform, a sucker for the old ways despite being allowed to wear whatever he wanted now. 

Rose watched him for a while, loving the shape of him, the fluidity of him, as he plied and stepped into different positions, his ginger hair a shock against the pale white and gentle lighting of the room.

He noticed her, eying her in the mirror, and paused to turn around and face her, his gaze soft.

Rose’s bag dropped to the floor and she sprinted at him, en pointe, and leapt into the air as she neared him, flying into his arms. He caught her with a laugh, a short, breathy sound, and he spun into the motion as she wrapped her limbs around him. When he came to a stop, he let her slide down to her feet, and Rose stepped into arabesque, one hand tipping underneath his chin, an invitation to dance with her.

Hux’s smile was so small, so tentative, but it was the most beautiful sight in the world. His hands took her waist and he pulled her away from the bar, dragging her on her one-pointed toe into the center, before lifting her up in the air. She split her legs and bent her back as he draped her over his shoulder, feeling light as a feather and loved in his arms.

The music tumbled around them as he lowered her once more, his hands stroking up her sides, fingertips grazing her breasts. He dipped her low to the floor, Rose letting out the most content of sighs as she came close to the floor, suspended in his grip. He held her there a little longer than necessary, a few beats off, and Rose turned to look at him, surprised to find his face so close.

He kissed her, a rough, passionate grab of his lips, a grunt of air passing from him to her at the effort of keeping her up. Rose deepened the motion, letting out a soft purr of need as he pulled her again to her feet and rose, turning her body with his fingertips. She rose on point and spun, commanded by him, and as she stopped on the third turn, pressed her hands to his chest and stroked them upward, their eyes connected.

The music continued around them, but they did not. Rose stayed on pointe, to reach him better, her fingers carding through his meticulous hair, mussing it, their heads tilted at opposing angles, their mouths fitting just right together. She could taste the tea he’d had not long ago, jasmine green, light and floral, and she shivered head to toe as he placed his palms on her waist, stroking in two different directions, one hand finding her ass, the other cupping just beneath her breast.

She sighed with longing, leaning into him, breaking their kiss just to breathe. But Hux was never sated, and contented himself with kissing along her jaw, down her neck, her shoulder, giving her plump ass a generous squeeze, which caused Rose to bark out a giggling laugh, pulling away from him slightly, his head held in her hands.

“We agreed no sex in _this_ studio,” she crooned softly.

“This isn’t sex, my love,” he murmured against the ticklish spot behind her ear, causing her to cringe with delight at the warmth of his breath. He grazed her there with his teeth and Rose sighed out a soft moan of longing.

“No but-… it will be,” Rose whispered her reply. “I hope. Though it is a pity you don’t wear your gloves as much anymore.”

He pulled away, a glittering twinkle in his eye, then pecked a soft kiss to her nose.

“If you want it to be… let’s go home. I have a spare pair there.”

Rose didn’t want to go home, either. She wanted to stay there in his arms and dance with him, as was her true joy. She stroked through his hair once more, studying his beautiful face, his soft green eyes, his pale ginger lashes, the healthier tone to his skin now that he actually slept through the night. Sometimes in her arms, sometimes she slept in his. 

She was so full of love for him she felt she may burst with it.

He looked as if he understood and ducked his forehead to lay it against her own, his eyes closed, a soft, tense sigh leaving him.

“We have all the time in the world, you know…” he mumbled gently, holding her closer.

“Do we?”

He nodded, running his bare hand up her spine, cradling the back of her neck and her head to tilt her backward again in a dip toward the floor, his dancer’s arms strong, supporting her. Rose smiled up at him, her heart so warm and full.

She took his hand in hers to pull herself up out of the hold, jumping up on pointe and spinning away from him, turning, turning, turning, until she might be so dizzy with love for him that she’d faint.

When she stopped, she turned to find him waiting for her, arms extended, proud and strong to support her.

She ran to him. She leapt into his arms. He caught her. He spun her. He held her tight.

And, with love, they finished their _pas de deux._

_~Fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ardentlyloveyou)!
> 
> If you like, please comment! I love hearing feedback from readers. <3


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